


Tangled Up In You

by apocalypsenah, EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fake/Pretend Relationship, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Inspired by 101 Dalmatians, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Dagon (Good Omens), Wedding date, hallmark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsenah/pseuds/apocalypsenah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: Aziraphale is lonely. Crowley is down on his luck. That is, until they run into each other.Now, they're faking a relationship, but can they keep it up when real feelings start creeping in?For the Do It With Style Mini Bang!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Comments: 145
Kudos: 94
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to my wonderful, incredible, talented collaborators and artists [Tarek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarek_giverofcookies) and [apocalypsenah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsenah) who not only created art, but were always there to give feedback, brainstorm, and provide constant support.  
> I couldn't have asked for a better team! ❤️
> 
> And love forever to my amazing betas [my1alias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my1alias) and [elizabethelizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth)

It had been a slow day at A.Z Fell and Co., which was just how Aziraphale liked it. 

The bookshop was lined with shelves that were crammed full of carefully collected tomes, filling the old building with the smell of old pages and ink. When the shelves failed to provide room, the books were placed in neat piles on the floor. Or on countertops. Or on other piles of books, teetering across two or more uneven stacks, creating strange towers of history and adventure, of love and tragedy.

Aziraphale was not unlike his bookshop. Wide, sturdy, full of knowledge and wit, and bound with antique threads. Layers of creams, browns, pale blues - dusty colors that settled comfortably into the landscape of old leather and parchment. His velvet waistcoat was worn around the buttons, well-loved and well taken care of. His vintage overcoat hung on the coat rack while he was wrapped in a soft cream cardigan that perfectly hugged his broad shoulders and chest, draped cozily along his arms, and hid the swell of his stomach under its buttons. His signature tartan bowtie was tied smartly at his throat. He stood as an extension of the words he surrounded himself with - carefully penned and printed neatly across the page in poetry and prose in phrases and paragraphs that were tucked away into his head and heart, hands as soft and well-worn as the books he held gently between them.

“Any luck yet?”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale hummed, pulled from his thoughts by the copy of These Old Shades that one of his usual customers had placed before him.

He eyed the cover and sighed. Leave it to Georgette Heyer to turn the conversation to romance.

“Any luck finding a nice young lady yet? You could use some help running this place.” Mrs. Abbott was 87 years old and had been a regular at the shop for years. She was very kind and had always been quite taken with Aziraphale, chatting away with him over tea or having debates about literature during her weekly visits. She was wonderful - clever and shocking in the most captivating ways, always teasing, prodding, finding the most interesting arguments for the sake of keeping the conversation alive, and had a real penchant for saying things that made Aziraphale blush. He was very fond of her, and loved every moment of her visits, except for those spent trying to set Aziraphale up on dates with every niece, neighbor, widow, or acquaintance of hers. 

Aziraphale had tried to explain that he wasn’t interested in dating right now, or women, but she persisted. 

“A nice young man like you should have a companion!” She smiled up at him. She was short, with deep brown eyes with wrinkles all over her face that deepened endearingly when she grinned.

Aziraphale hoped he had smile lines that deep someday.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I just haven’t found the right person yet. And yes,” Aziraphale rushed on before Mrs. Abbott could cut him off, “I am very sure it wouldn’t work out with your new neighbor. She sounds lovely, but she’s really not my type.”

“And what _is_ your type then?” She blinked expectantly up at him.

A very good question. He’d been wondering that his whole life. He found people attractive, but it was rare that he found himself connecting emotionally with someone. And of those he did find an emotional connection to, there was no common thread. It was all a matter of his heart finding another heart, beating in sync, for however brief a time. 

There was no rhyme or reason for his love, he simply gave it to whoever he felt deserved it. To those who gave him love in return. 

“You know, I don’t think I have a type. I think I have a specific person,” he mused as he placed Mrs. Abbott’s book into a bag and laid it on the counter. “At least I hope I do. Love has always been unexpected. Always a surprise. It has never been anything like I thought it would be and has led me to people I never expected to like, let alone have a deep connection with. And while I have loved, it has never been the kind of love that endures. I think that my enduring love is out there somewhere. And I hope we will find each other soon.”

“Don’t wait until you’re my age. Things are better when you’re younger!” Mrs. Abbott winked at him, lifted her purchase from the counter, and hobbled out of the shop.

The grandfather clock chimed and Aziraphale sighed in relief.

He shuffled around the shop, closing out the till (easy to do, as there had been only one sale that day), pulling blinds, and flipping the sign to CLOSED.

When he was done, he grabbed a book from the pile on his desk and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, savoring the life and movement in it. He very rarely opened the shop’s windows, protecting his beloved collection from overexposure to the wet London weather, and the air was a bit stagnant, sometimes stifling. It was a welcome change to bring a carefully selected edition with him into the world to be enjoyed in a more lively atmosphere.

It was a grey day, but not cold, and he was grateful for the reprieve. It had rained every day of the past week and, while he had enjoyed the excuse to stay inside with his books and very few customers, he was glad the weather had let up. He was relieved at the opportunity to get out of the shop and take his book to the park. He needed to stretch his legs and enjoy a change of scenery. 

He made his way down the street and over to the park, a slight spring in his step. He weaved around the people lining the sidewalks with kind smiles and polite _excuse me_ ’s, until he reached the entrance of the park. 

He stepped through the ornate black and gold gate and whistled a jaunty tune. The paths were clearer here and he slowed his steps, enjoying the scent of the trees that drifted on the breeze, the shifting sensation on his face as he walked from shadow into light and back again, the sound of water gurgling in the large stone fountain to his left. He walked and walked, wandering the familiar paths until he found the perfect reading spot. 

Just off the walkway sat a wooden bench with wrought iron swirling from the top down to form armrests and legs. It was tucked beneath a tree and overlooked the pond. Ducks were swimming merrily, sending ripples along the surface of the water, sparkling in the patches of sunlight that managed to peek through the clouds.

He settled into his quiet corner of the park and opened his book.

He was unsure how long he’d been there, at least two chapters, when he heard a voice coming down the path towards him. It was confident and smooth and melodic, somewhat annoyed, but lovely all the same. The vowels were long and the consonants hit with percussive precision. Aziraphale glanced up from his book, but the stranger was hidden by the tree.

Aziraphale sat more upright, if it was at all possible. He straightened his tie and turned the page, letting his eyes wander from the text to the path and back again, ears straining for more words from that alluring voice.

His eyes were firmly fixed on the words before him when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He let his gaze drift and caught a glimpse of a slim figure all in black. It seemed he was on his phone, dog leash held tightly in one hand. The dog in question, a small black and white mutt, was sniffing around a bush just a couple of yards from where Aziraphale sat. It was impossible not to eavesdrop from this short distance, and Aziraphale was somewhat distressed that the stranger’s conversation didn’t seem to be going well.

“Yeah, I know. You said that already. Look, I know all that, but you said-” He was cut off by the garbled sound of yelling through the phone speaker. “Right. Got it. Yeah. Bye.”

The figure hung up, stalked toward the edge of the pond and threw himself down onto the grass. He was tall and very thin, a tapestry of long limbs and sharp features. His hair was fiery red and cut short, exposing his long neck. A small tattoo curled over itself by his ear and dark glasses covered his eyes, despite the gloomy weather. He brought his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and set his chin down. He tossed his phone onto the grass beside him and stared out over the water.

The dog, leash dragging on the ground behind him, happily sniffed around his human, then in a wider circle, testing the boundary.

Eventually, he came to sit by Aziraphale.

“Well, hello there.” He smiled and leaned down, giving the pup a nice scratch behind the ears before returning to his book. 

“Sorry ‘bout that.” 

Aziraphale looked up to see the stranger before him. He was squatting down, grabbing the leash in one hand. Aziraphale wondered how he could move in those tight trousers. They were almost obscene.

The stranger looked up and smiled, a charming, crooked thing that made Aziraphale’s heart stutter.

_Oh, dear._

“No need to apologize. He’s very friendly.” Aziraphale smiled, closing his book in his lap. “What’s his name?”

“Dog,” the man replied, standing, unfolding into his full glory. Taller and slenderer up close, but he looked like he would be surprisingly strong. He looked like he’d be surprising in a lot of ways. Aziraphale desperately wanted to get to know him, to find out what was hidden behind those dark glasses and cool exterior.

“Dog?” Aziraphale chuckled.

“I didn’t name him. He’s my godson’s, I just walk him.”

“I’m Aziraphale,” he blurted out, hand outstretched.

“Aziraphale? What are you, an angel?” the man smirked.

“Goodness, no,” he blushed.

“Crowley.”

The man took his hand and shook it, just once, before letting go. Aziraphale’s skin tingled from the contact. 

_Oh, this was not good._

“Very nice to meet you, Crowley. And you, too Dog.” Aziraphale smiled at each of them, forcing his breath to remain steady even as his heart raced. He let his hand drift to Dog’s head and gave him a few more scratches. “Forgive me if this is prying, but I couldn’t help but overhear your phone conversation. Is everything alright?”

Crowley sighed and threw himself down onto the bench beside Aziraphale. He didn’t sit so much as sprawl, long legs splayed out, arms stretched along the back of the bench, fingertips just an inch from Aziraphale’s shoulder. His phone was placed on the bench beside him. Aziraphale wondered if it even fit into the pockets of those trousers.

“It’s nothing. I just have a habit of putting my foot in my mouth.” He let his head fall against the back of the bench.

“Ah,” Aziraphale replied weakly. 

“Yeah. S’a skill, at this point, really.” Crowley shrugged.

“I, er, well, I’d be happy to listen if you would like to talk about it. I know I’m a stranger, but I am quite a good confidant. I have even been known to give good advice, if you’d like some. Though, I wouldn’t want to impose…” Aziraphale trailed off, feeling very foolish for the offer.

“My cousin is getting married and I told my family I had a date for the wedding. A partner,” Crowley stated plainly, voice even, monotone, defeated.

“I see. And do you?”

“I did. That’s what the phone call was. Called it all off. Three days before the wedding and they called it off. Said I was going too fast.” Crowley slumped forward, elbows on knees, head in hands.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale laid a supportive hand on Crowley’s shoulder and they both froze. Aziraphale withdrew his hand quickly, shoving it into his own lap as heat rushed into his cheeks.

_Damn his foolish heart._

“S’alright. I do that. Go too fast.” Crowley sighed, brushing off the strangeness of the friendly touch. He turned his head in his hands to look up at Aziraphale, whose blue eyes were wide with sympathy, a small frown playing at his lips. “Doing it again now.”

“Oh, no-” Aziraphale began. If only Crowley knew how Aziraphale’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest just minutes after meeting him. Talk about too fast...

“It’s what I do. Go too fast, scare people off, tell strangers my business,” Crowley shrugged. “Better get Dog home. Adam’ll be waiting.” He stood, scooping up his phone with one hand and the leash with the other, waving as he sauntered down the path. “Thanks for listening. You really are an angel.”

“Wait!” Aziraphale stood and rushed over to Crowley, his book left forgotten on the bench. 

Dog was very excited by the sudden movement, barking playfully and jumping around. He circled Aziraphale, yapping and growling happily. As he moved, the leash tangled around Aziraphale’s legs as well as Crowley’s, forcing them together. 

“Oh!” he cried, bracing himself on Crowley’s chest, his balance constantly being pulled in different directions as Dog circled and darted about, eyes tearing between the two humans he had entangled and a nearby squirrel.

Aziraphale was frozen, watching as Crowley grasped at the leash. His other hand clutched at Aziraphale’s arms and shoulders, trying to steady them, but Dog’s constant movement kept them teetering, tightening the leash and pulling them closer. He tried to say something, anything! He tried to move, to help, but his brain was unable to supply a course of action in the midst of this strange and unexpected scenario.

Crowley mumbled out an apology to Aziraphale, a curse on Dog, and a series of syllables that were nonsense, but clearly conveyed his current emotional state. Aziraphale wished he could reassure him, but there were no words available to him in his panic. Dog ran after a squirrel, barking as the bushy-tailed creature darted into a bush beside the pond, pulling hard on the leash as he dove after it. Aziraphale felt a strong arm wrap tightly around his waist and he was being shifted as Crowley placed himself between Aziraphale and the pond. They looked at each other for a brief moment, a silent apology, an unspoken thanks, then both squeezed their eyes shut as they plummeted into the pond.


	2. Making a Plan

Crowley was having a shit day.

He still hadn’t heard back from any of the eight jobs he’d applied to, his beloved Bentley was still not up and running like he thought she’d be after all the hours he’d spent working on her, and now he didn’t have a date to the wedding. Dumb family obligations...

It wasn’t all bad, though. Couldn’t be. Not with this strange man in the park asking after him, listening to his problems as if he truly cared. As if Crowley mattered.

This Aziraphale, with his strange name and his perfectly pressed tan suit, his velvet waistcoat, his reassuring hand on his shoulder, his gorgeous blue eyes, his halo of perfectly angelic curls.

He’d offered to listen to his problems and Crowley had accepted. Why not? He’d never see him again. 

Shame, really. He was cute. Beautiful, actually.

And then he’d mucked it all up again. Well, technically Dog did. Getting them all tangled up in his leash. Suddenly Aziraphale was pressed against his chest. Crowley did his best not to touch, but it was impossible. He tried to steady them, to unwind the leash, but the only thing he managed to do was pull Aziraphale closer to him and angle himself to take the backward plunge into the pond.

He gulped in a quick breath before he was submerged, the warm weight of Aziraphale over him. 

He felt a hand fist into his jacket, pulling him up to sit. He gasped in air as he felt the weight against him shift. His legs were pushed slightly apart as Aziraphale settled back, sitting on his heels. His hands were in Crowley’s hair, pushing it out of his face.

“Oh, my dear, are you alright? I’m afraid I must have forced the air right out of you! Foolish, really, taking the fall like that! Does anything feel broken?” Aziraphale’s hands flitted about, checking Crowley’s face and arms for any sign of damage.

“M’fine.” Crowley managed. The sun broke through the clouds and sent a shaft of light down over this angel and his breath was gone once more. This man _glowed_. White-gold curls damp but still somehow angelic, shimmering rivulets of water dripping over his creamy skin.

“Are you quite sure?” Aziraphale stilled, watching Crowley’s expression with quiet intensity.

“Yeah.” Crowley reached down and tugged at the leash until it was loose enough to wiggle out of. “Really sorry about this.” He stood and reached a hand down for Aziraphale, who took it gratefully.

“It’s not your fault, my dear. Quite an unexpected bit of excitement!” 

His blue eyes sparkled and Crowley’s knees felt weak. Aziraphale stumbled a little as he stood and he fell against Crowley again. 

Crowley’s arms tightened around the angel.

“Be my date.”

“What?” Aziraphale froze.

“Be my date for the wedding.”

“But we just met!” Emotions flashed over Aziraphale’s face in quick succession - surprise, joy, realization, confusion, and something that read as disapproval or disappointment.

This was a crazy idea. He knew it was, but he wanted this. Wanted to understand why his heart was thrumming erratically in his chest, why his eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from the angel’s, why his brain kept repeating _Aziraphale_ over and over and over...

“Just for the weekend.” Crowley tried to release him, but his arms wouldn’t budge. “Doesn’t have to be a big thing, just pretend to be my,” he nearly choked, “boyfriend for a couple of days.”

He knew they would make an odd pair. Soft, kind Aziraphale set against Crowley’s dark, sharpness. It was a fantasy he found himself falling into, but he knew that the angel in his arms would never fall for him. It was clear on his beautiful face that he wasn’t the biggest fan of pretending to be Crowley’s boyfriend.

“Wouldn’t you rather someone more… I mean, I’m afraid I’m not very-”

Crowley’s heart dropped at the shame that darkened those beautiful blue eyes. He was desperate to keep this angel close, make him smile, keep all those glittering glances for himself.

“Please, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It pleaded in a subdued way that explained that this was the simplest solution, the easiest solution. He hoped it didn’t give away that it was the best solution he could have ever hoped for.

Something softened in the angel’s face, a flash of wonder and something like hope. He nodded.

“Good. Let’s have lunch.” Crowley kept one arm wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist as he escorted him out of the pond. He was going to enjoy this while it lasted, having this strange and wonderful creature close. _His_ for however brief a time. 

“Lunch? It’s nearly half six!” Aziraphale’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Dinner then. Just gotta drop the mutt off.” Crowley growled at Dog, who looked rather pleased with himself, ears flopping merrily.

“I’m not in any state to go out to dinner, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale ran his hands over his waistcoat with a frown.

“Right. I’ll drop you off, give you time to change, then I’ll pick you up. Yeah?”

“I suppose that would be acceptable.”

“Oh, er. Actually, I don’t have my car.” Crowley ran a nervous hand through his damp hair. “Needs work. I walked here.”

“That suits me just fine, my dear! I walked here as well!” Aziraphale beamed up at him.

Crowley’s heart fluttered. _My dear_ . That smile. The way the skin around his eyes creased and crinkled with joy. Those _eyes_. The endearing man seemingly out-of-time.

Crowley was absolutely done for.

“Ngk. Good. Let’s go.” He held out his arm and was delighted at the pink flush on the angel’s cheeks as he slipped his arm into Crowley’s.

“Oh! Is that your mobile?” Aziraphale dashed over to where the phone had fallen, perfectly dry, on the ground. He carefully picked it up between his thumb and index finger. “Don’t want to leave that behind!” He trotted back over and held it out to Crowley.

“Your book?” He inclined his head toward the bench and had to stifle a laugh when Aziraphale gasped like a silent movie star. He shook his hands rapidly in the air, making sure they were very dry, before carefully lifting the book.

“Thank you ever so much! It would have been a crime to lose this after all the time it took me to track it down!” He took up his spot at Crowley’s side and slipped his arm once more into Crowley’s. It felt natural, as if this was a normal thing. As if they hadn’t just met. As if they hadn’t just tumbled into a pond. As if they were a real couple. 

“Like books then?” Crowley’s words felt heavy and foolish as they tumbled off his tongue, but turned to sparks of starlight when he saw the angel brighten.

“Oh, very much. I own a bookshop, you see.” Aziraphale’s voice was liquid gold, bright and shining and warm. “I always loved reading. I spend more time in the company of a good book than I do with people.”

Aziraphale slowed his pace for a fraction of a moment, then nearly jumped back to reality, words tumbling out in a rush. “That is not to say that I don’t enjoy the company of another person, I’m just very… selective.”

“No shame in that,” Crowley assured him, “m’selective, too. Lots of humans suck.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped. “I wouldn’t quite say that!”

“You didn’t. I did.” Crowley smiled down at the angel at his side.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale hummed, trying to hide the smile creeping over his lovely pink lips. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not walking dogs?”

“Er…” Crowley’s voice dropped, grinding and popping. “Just walking dogs. At least right now.”

“ _Oh_.” The response was small, embarrassed. Crowley couldn’t tell who it was directed towards.

“I’ve got applications in,” he rushed on, “just waiting for a call.”

“I’m sure one will come very soon!” Aziraphale beamed. “Any particular job you’re hoping for?” 

“There’s this gardening job that sounds great, but I’m not sure I have a shot.”

“And why is that?” Aziraphale was looking at him again. Looking at him like he believed in him. Like he really thought Crowley could do the job. Could do anything. 

“I applied to a few auto shops. M’good with cars. Could get one of those. Wouldn’t be so bad.” Crowley shrugged.

“But you’d prefer to work with plants than cars?”

“I like ‘em both. Just like the fresh air of a garden better than being cooped up inside a garage. Gardens are alive. S’just… nice.” 

“That does sound lovely.” Aziraphale sighed happily. “I’ve never been able to keep anything alive, other than myself, of course. Though I do love having flowers and greenery around the shop when I can. And speaking of the shop, this is me!” 

Aziraphale’s arm disappeared from Crowley’s elbow. 

He wanted to chase it, keep it, but he just nodded and let his arm fall to his side, the other hand keeping a tight hold on Dog’s leash.

Dog sniffed around the building they stood before. It was large and stately. The antique feel fit Aziraphale well. Worn brick on the upper stories and a deep chocolate-red facade on the ground floor. There were large windows, shades drawn, and a pair of stately pillars guarding a set of double doors above which, painted in faded gold, announced _A.Z. Fell and Co._

“Nice place.” Crowley mused. 

“Been in the family for years. I am very fond of it.” Aziraphale’s eyes were clouded with memory, his smile delicate, hands clasped before him, resting against the soft curve of his stomach. “But I’d better get a bit of a wiggle on, hadn’t I?” He snapped himself out of his reverie, flashing Crowley a blinding smile. “Shall I make reservations while you drop Dog off?”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be good.”

“Lovely! I’ll see you shortly, then!” Aziraphale busied himself with unlocking the door, then looked back at Crowley, a shy glance, before disappearing inside.

“Right.” 

Exactly 43 minutes later Crowley stood once again at the door of A.Z. Fell and Co.

He knocked and a moment later the door swung open.

“He- how many of those do you have?” Crowley’s eyes swept over the angel, who was wearing an outfit that was almost identical to the one he had been wearing earlier.

“What?” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed as he looked over himself, hands fluttering anxiously over the fabric.

“Bowtie, waistcoat, take your pick! Is this your everyday look?” Crowley crossed his arms and cocked a hip, grinning crookedly.

“Yes, it is. I _have_ standards.” Aziraphale’s lips pouted in the most frustratingly adorable way and Crowley nearly leaned in to taste them. 

“Of _course_ ,” Crowley drawled. “Shall we to dinner, then?” He bowed low with a dramatic sweep of his arm and heard Aziraphate tut above him. 

“You’re making a _scene_ , Crowley.” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s arm and pulled him up. They were nearly nose to nose for a moment. Crowley took in a breath and captured the scent of vanilla and sandalwood. He realized that Aziraphale wasn’t much shorter than him, just a few inches difference. Just the perfect height to hold, to dance, to kiss...

“Ah,” Aziraphale’s cheeks were charmingly crimson when he pulled away. “We should be on our way, then.”

“Yeah. Right. Dinner.”

They strolled a few blocks over to a nice Italian restaurant. Aziraphale ordered for them both, being a regular patron and knowing the rather extensive menu well.

They shared a bottle of deep red wine and chatted pleasantly about nothing over soup and breadsticks. 

After the entrees were served - a large, deep bowl of pasta with a white wine sauce and seafood for Aziraphale and a traditional lasagna for Crowley - Aziraphale’s movements grew measured, losing the ease with which his hands had fluttered during their earlier conversation.

“So, I suppose we should discuss the matter at hand.”

“Guess so. My family’s a lot, but if you stick with me you’ll get through.” Crowley shrugged and raised his wineglass to his lips. The thought of bringing this beautiful man to the wedding, seeing this spot of sunshine mingle with his family, it sent his stomach reeling. Aziraphale deserved so much better, even if this wasn’t a real relationship.

“I’m very sure it would be no chore to stick with you, but I, ah…”

Crowley’s heart sprinted, breaking a world-record, he was sure. Perhaps he hadn’t read the angel's reaction right earlier. Maybe he wasn’t disappointed to be spending time with him. But, then what _was_ it?

“Just spit it out Aziraphale. I won’t judge. Promise.” Crowley leaned in and placed his hand over Aziraphale’s, watching the way his blue eyes grew wide in the flickering candlelight.

“Well,” he held Crowley’s gaze, “I mentioned earlier that I’m selective about the people I choose to spend time with. While that is true, it isn’t the whole truth.”

Crowley was still, listening, attentive, assuring.

“I’m selective as a precaution, really.” His voice was soft, hesitant, devoid of its usual warm glow. “I’m not exactly… you see, I am… well, I’m rather... not everyone’s cup of tea.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed.

“What I’m trying to say is I would understand if you’d prefer to take someone else.” Aziraphale’s hand slipped out from under Crowley’s to join the other wringing in his lap, his eyes lowered.

“Why would I want that?” Crowley’s brain was going full speed, trying to understand, unable to connect the dots.

“There’s no need to pretend. I am well aware of what I am.”

“What? Old fashioned? That’s no big deal. It’ll be a great look at the wedding!” Crowley was desperate, grabbing at straws. He knew the conversation was getting away from him, he could see the dark clouds rolling in behind Azirpahale’s eyes, and he could do nothing to stop it.

“Crowley, _really_ ,” Aziraphale breathed, hands fell to the table in frustration, eyes shooting down again. “I’m not attractive! No one would believe we were a couple.”

He froze. Rebooted the system. Scooped Aziraphale’s hand between his own and squeezed gently.

“Whoever made you think that was dead wrong. You’re plenty attractive. And no, I’m not just saying that.”

Aziraphale’s eyes slid up slowly, disbelieving, yet so completely hopeful that it nearly broke Crowley’s heart. His words rushed out, needing to reassure this wonderful man before him.

“You are. Really. You’re gorgeous, angel.”

They both blushed furiously. They didn’t pull away.

“You’re very good, you know. We might just pull this off.” Aziraphale chuckled, his eyes flitting between his wineglass and Crowley’s face.

“S’the truth.” Crowley choked on the words, washing them down with a large gulp of wine. “But we’re gonna have to make it good. Gotta impress the family and keep it up for the long weekend. Think you’re up for it?”

“Being on your arm for a whole weekend?” Aziraphale smiled coyly. “I do believe I’m up for it. Might even dance with you if you asked.”

“Good. Perfect.” Crowley couldn’t stop a broad smile from breaking across his face. This might very well be the best weekend of his life. “Now, here’s what you need to know.”


	3. Dinner and Studying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the DIWS Discord Server for coming up with some truly amazing snake/cooking puns for the apron. I wish I could have used all of the suggestions! <3

The following morning Aziraphale stood by his antique phone. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the receiver to his ear, his eyes hyper-focused on the numbers as the rotary spun around.

“Hello?” Crowley’s voice sent his stomach fluttering.

“Crowley! I’m glad you’re in. I was wondering if, oh, this is Aziraphale.”

“I know, angel. What were you wondering?”

Aziraphale could hear the smirk in those words and his cheeks flushed hot.

“Well, I have a number of questions about tomorrow, the whole weekend, actually, and I was hoping to clear some things up.” Aziraphale was aware that the words were pouring out of his mouth rapidly, but he was unable to stop himself. “I realized that we didn’t discuss it at all yesterday, which seems rather foolish of me not to have thought to ask then, but I do have questions. That is if you’re available tonight. Which you may not be, of course! I don’t mean to presume-”

“What time?”

“What?” Aziraphale’s breath rushed out of his lungs.

“What time? I’ll cook you dinner.”

Aziraphale stood at Crowley’s door that evening, a bottle of wine clutched against his chest, one unsteady hand raised to knock.

The door swung open and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat.

Crowley was wearing an apron.

An _apron_.

His usual, though somewhat dressier, skin-tight black ensemble, yes, but over it was a scarlet apron, tied thrice around his slim waist. A black snake was embroidered on the bib, curling around itself elegantly, it’s head pointing downward toward the words _Snake n’ Bake_.

“Hullo angel!” Crowley drawled, hip cocked and grin crooked. His hair was delightfully mussed and his eyes were bright and golden.

“H-hi! I brought wine!” Aziraphale held out the bottle and chuckled nervously. His heart was beating a samba against his ribcage.

“Come on in!” Crowley took the bottle with one arm while the other draped over Aziraphale’s shoulders, leading him inside.

“Not much, but it’s home.” Crowley took him on a quick tour. “Den, office, bedroom,” he pointed as they passed each room. “Plants.”

He stopped then. Aziraphale gasped and stepped slowly into the room before him.

It was full of the most beautiful greenery he had ever seen. Hanging plants spilled down from their planters, tall fronds exploded from large pots along the walls, and vibrant flowers peeked up from the forest of green in shades of red and orange.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, fingers skimming along the silky-smooth petals of a crimson peony. “This is beautiful! I had no idea…”

“That’s the point of this, yeah. Get to know each other. Ya know, since we’re dating.” Crowley’s eyes bugged as he turned as red as the flower in Aziraphale’s hand. “I mean, we’re, you’re my date. For the wedding. Fake dating. The _arrangement_. 

Aziraphale’s heart was flipping strangely in his chest as he watched Crowley’s limbs twitch. Clearly uncomfortable with the idea of dating him. Just a weekend. Just an arrangement. An arrangement he had agreed to.

“Of course,” he smiled. “They are so very lovely.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that.” Crowley inclined his head toward the door. “Gotta keep them in line or they’ll be all withered and brown by morning.”

“And how exactly do you keep them in line?” Aziraphale asked, one eyebrow popping up.

“Just a gentle reminder to grow better, angel, nothing to worry about.” Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale’s lower back to guide him to the kitchen and he felt his knees wobble.

By some miracle, he made it to the kitchen without falling over and let Crowley settle him on a stool at the counter. 

Everything about Crowley’s flat was dark and sleek. Everything about Crowley was dark and sleek. Nothing like Aziraphale’s soft, pastel, cluttered life.

What a strange pair.

And yet, somehow they were. Even if just for a weekend.

Crowley was an incredible cook. The meal was absolutely scrummy, though Aziraphale didn’t utter that particular word out loud. 

The table was set with an array of platters that looked like they came from an upscale restaurant - sharp edges, crisp, sleek, modern. And the food exquisitely displayed upon them was mouth-watering!

Slices of rosemary chicken served over rice, asparagus sauteed with garlic butter, a colorful fruit salad, and slices of soft, fresh bread. And what meal would be complete without a very nice bottle of red wine?

Crowley poured them each a glass and settled down across from Aziraphale.

“To the unexpected” He smiled, raising his glass.

“To the ineffable,” Aziraphale grinned back at him.

“Ineffable?” Crowley’s brow furrowed, but only just.

“Oh yes. I do think our meeting was quite ineffable. Beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words.” Aziraphale had felt quite pleased at his choice of words, but his stomach was twisting, afraid that he was coming across as foolish or pretentious. “Don’t you think? I rarely talk to strangers, or anybody really, and you were so easy to talk to, and you'd just lost your date, and then that whole ordeal with the pond. Really, it was as if the Almighty pushed us together.” He chuckled nervously.

Crowley considered for a moment, glass still raised, then nodded.

“To the ineffable.”

They clinked glasses and drank.

After the table had been cleared, Crowley ushered Aziraphale over to the couch and pulled the coffee table closer to them. He poured them each another glass of wine and set a thick book on the table.

“Now for the education portion of the evening.”

He flipped open the cover.

“A photo album?” Aziraphale leaned in. The first page was a large posed photo, at least fifty people flashing smiles or grimaces at the camera.

“Yup. Family photo album. Help you get to know everyone before we get there.”

“Oh my. There certainly are a lot of them.” Aziraphale ran a finger over the edge of the photograph, eyes scanning over the picture, taking it all in.

“Let’s start with the most important ones. That’s my cousin Dagon,” he pointed out a tall figure staring blankly at the camera. Their hair was slicked back in a severe bun at the base of their skull. “And their fiance, Beez.” Crowley’s long finger moved down to someone short, dark-haired, and scowling.

“Oh, they seem nice.” Aziraphale tried to sound sincere.

“They’re not as bad as they look. Not as nice as you, but they’re not the worst demons of the lot. Though I don’t think anyone could be as nice as you, angel.” Crowley winked at him and Aziraphale let himself forget that they were only pretending. He let himself believe that Crowley meant it. Let himself get lost in those golden eyes, in the warm glow from sitting so close to such a handsome man.

“So, Dagon and Beez are getting married. Got that.” Aziraphale recited, flashing back to his university days, wondering if he should be making flashcards for this test.

“Good. Now for the wedding party - other cousins, Hastur,” a tall, pale man with dark eyes, “Ligur,” shorter and dark, a forced smile on his face.

“Do strang- ah, unique names run in the family?” Aziraphale asked with a wince.

Crowley shrugged. “Last big one. Sister.”

“You’ve never mentioned that you have a sister!” Aziraphale sat up straight, taken aback.

“No?” Crowley looked genuinely surprised. “Huh. Thought I mentioned her.” He thought for a moment, then pointed at a beautiful young woman with dark hair and a bright smile. 

“She’s lovely,” Aziraphale smiled at the photograph, happy to see a genuine grin.

“Anathema.” Crowley was suddenly far away, staring at the picture, but not seeing it.

“Anathema?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. It suits her.” Aziraphale hesitantly placed a hand over Crowley’s, bringing him back to the present. “I do hope I don’t let you down.”

“What? Could never.” Crowley met Aziraphale’s gaze with a soft sincerity. 

“I wish we had more time to prepare. I’m not sure we know enough about each other to make everyone believe we’ve been together for… how long was it?”

“Almost a year.”

“See? I don’t even know how long we’ve been together!” Aziraphale’s hands were wringing in his lap. “Well, not us, obviously!”

“Obviously,” Crowley sighed, his hands stilling Aziraphale’s by wrapping around them, holding them gently. “We have the drive there to sort out the rest of the details, but you’re gonna do great.”

Aziraphale nodded, staring at their hands clasped between them.

“Dessert?” Crowley asked with a soft, shy smile. “I made cheesecake.”

The next morning Aziraphale heard a horn sound and he rushed outside, suitcase in one hand, garment bag in the other. He locked the bookshop behind him and turned to see…

Crowley, a vision in the early morning sun, leaning enticingly against the most beautiful vintage vehicle Aziraphale had ever seen. Crowley’s red hair stood out against the charcoal grey car, which had clearly been meticulously shined and polished.

“What’dya think, angel?” Crowley patted the roof with pride. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Incredible!” Aziraphale stepped forward, admiring both the car and her owner.

“Fixed her up myself. Took some convincing to get her to warm up to the modern parts, but she wouldn’t let me down.”

“You did this all yourself? Incredible!” Aziraphale leaned down, running a hand over the metal. “Oh, this must have cost a fortune!”

“Got a bit of a loan from Adam’s parents.” Crowley shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Won’t get paid for dog walking for a while, but it’s worth it. When you’re taking a date to a wedding, you gotta do it with style.” He pulled open the door and gestured Aziraphale in. “Leave the bags, I’ll take care of them.” 

Aziraphale slid into the car while Crowley stored the suitcase and garment bag.

“All in, angel?” Crowley asked, then shut the door when Aziraphale nodded.

The wedding venue was a small seaside resort a few hours south of London. The drive went by quickly as they chatted and recounted stories from their lives. Crowley treated Aziraphale to lunch at a charming little cafe where the angel insisted on questioning him about all the details of their relationship once again.

“I need to be sure that I’ve got it all right,” Aziraphale asked over the top of his menu. “You were adopted at a very young age, Anathema a few years later. You two are very close, but you had a complicated relationship with your parents. Your dad died when you were fourteen, your mum a year later. You and Anathema were taken in by your Uncle Dev and your cousins Hastur, Ligur, and Dagon, also adopted. You lived with them until you graduated high school, then you moved out and started working odd jobs and picking up as many shifts as you could at the local garage, which is how you got the Bentley. You saved her from the compactor and fixed her up yourself, which sounds like it was really quite an accomplishment!” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley, relishing the shy way his thin lips twitched upwards in response to his praise. “But back to the wedding - Dagon and Beez have been dating for three years and claim they are only getting married for the shared insurance benefits, though they’re, how did you put it, disgustingly in love?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. Ready to order?” Crowley was sprawled over his chair, long limbs barely contained to his allotted space, lazy smile on his face.

“How are you so relaxed about this?” Aziraphale set his menu down on the table emphatically. 

“S’just a wedding,” Crowley shrugged.

“Not the wedding, Crowley! This!” Azirpahale frantically waved a hand between the two of them. “Lying to your whole family! Pretending that we’re in love!”

“S’not really a lie. I never told ‘em we’re in love, just that we’re together. And we are.” Something in Crowley’s voice changed, a subtle hint of panic. “Here. Together. So, nothing to be worried about.”

“Ah, right. That does simplify things.” Aziraphale pressed his lips together and returned his attention to the menu. 

Just business. Don’t get distracted by the lovely hair and that charming smile and those _very_ slim jeans...

“Look, I’m glad you’re here. Really grateful. You’re saving my ass and I think we could have a nice time. Just don’t let worry ruin it, yeah? Just be you. Talk to the family, we hold hands a little, maybe dance at the reception, then it’s over.”

Aziraphale’s heart flipped. Holding hands. Dancing. Being together all weekend. And Crowley thought that would be nice. Nice to spend the weekend with Aziraphale.

_And then it’s over._

“Are you two ready to order?” The voice of the young waitress cut through Aziraphale’s racing thoughts.

“Do you know what you want, angel?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale stared blankly at the menu.

“What would you say to some crepes?” 


	4. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blur of dark fabric and Crowley was being crushed by two arms wound around his middle.
> 
> “It’s been too long! Bet you didn’t even miss me, did you?” The woman pulled back and Aziraphale could see that in her eyes glimmered the same mischievous spark that Crowley had. “Impossible. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you!”
> 
> She beamed and turned to Aziraphale. “Except maybe for you!” She stared at him as if she could see through to his soul and Aziraphale squirmed just a little under her gaze.
> 
> “Anathema Device,” she held out a hand and Aziraphale took it, shocked at the strength of her grip. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Aziraphale nodded off after lunch, full and happy and lulled by waves visible as he looked out the window. His head was pressed against the glass and Crowley was sure the angel would complain of a sore neck later, but he looked too angelic to disturb.

Crowley smiled to himself. He liked Aziraphale. Despite his ancient, stuffy exterior, he was charming and clever and fun to be around.

_I never told ‘em we’re in love._

Aziraphale’s expression had been something like relief, a brief sigh. This was nothing to him. Just a favor. A role to play. 

_Just talk to the family, hold hands a little, maybe dance at the reception, then it’s over._

The angel’s eyes had grown wide at this. Clearly he hadn’t thought this through. Hadn’t realized everything that went along with pretending to be in a relationship. Aziraphale probably had all sorts of excuses at the ready so they wouldn’t have to kiss, but holding hands had clearly caught him by surprise. He would probably hate having Crowley’s long, rough fingers entwined with his own, soft and well-manicured. But he would do it. Would suffer through it for the weekend, for Crowley’s sake, and that would be it.

He probably wouldn’t want to see Crowley again. Would probably be too embarrassed to see his fake boyfriend again. 

What a situation Crowley had gotten himself into. Wishing he could date his fake-partner, when all Aziraphale seemed to want was for the weekend to be over as quickly, and with as little physical touch, as possible.

“Ready, angel?” Crowley pulled the Bentley into an open spot and let his eyes unfocus. The inn before him became a blur of green and blue. His heart was stuttering out a strange cha-cha rhythm. 

He could do this. He could make it through the weekend. He could handle being around his family for a few days. He could pretend to be in a relationship with Aziraphale. Kind, wonderful, perfect Aziraphale who had been thrown into a pond and then immediately agreed to be Crowley’s date to a wedding. And most importantly he would be able to let the angel go at the end of the weekend. Drop him back at the bookshop and drive away. Arrangement over.

Yes. He could do this.

Except that there was now a weight against his hand. Warm and soft and electric. 

He dropped his eyes to see Aziraphale’s hand tentatively settle against his own.

“I’m ready. Are you?” The angel’s voice was gentle, supportive, comforting. His eyes were clear, skin wrinkled at the edges where they drew up as he smiled.

“Yeah. Best just get it over with.” Crowley nodded. Aziraphale’s smile faltered just slightly, but Crowley noticed and words rushed out to bring back the brightness. “Introductions, I mean. Meet my nightmare of a family. Demons, all of ‘em, and I mean that!”

Aziraphale’s lips drew together in a shy grin and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “If they are related to you, they must be. You’re positively wicked. Tempting a poor unsuspecting soul to be whisked away for a weekend of deception and romance!”

“Romance?” Crowley wheezed, grateful that he still had a hand on the steering wheel to steady himself.

“The wedding!” Aziraphale blinked rapidly, eyelashes catching the sun and Crowley was mesmerized. A pink tinge crawled up angelic cheeks and Crowley drank in the sight.

“Right. Of course. The wedding.” Crowley nodded slowly, cursing himself for being so jumpy.

“I suppose we should get a bit of a wiggle on. Lots of family to meet, wedding preparations to assist with, settling in to be done.” Aziraphale let himself out of the car and Crowley followed suit. 

“Wiggle on?” He muttered to himself as he grabbed their bags. He turned towards the inn, but stopped when Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“May I have my suitcase, please?” He held out a hand, waiting.

“I got it, angel.”

“It’s very kind of you, but I can manage. Besides, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?” Aziraphale looked up at him through long lashes and Crowley handed over the bag, powerless to go against the angel’s wishes.

Aziraphale took the handle of the case with one hand and before Crowley could lower his arm there was a hand in his.

“There.” Aziraphale smiled and wiggled his shoulders.

They walked together, hand in hand.

Crowley was in trouble. His heart was not going to survive the weekend. 

They strolled through the front doors and into a lobby that was mostly empty. It was a nice space, open and light and cozy. Large windows were draped in white sheer curtains, pulled aside and fastened with silky midnight blue bows. A large antique desk sat to their left, and a sitting room to their right where a love seat and a set of wingback chairs sat around a coffee table. And what sitting area would be complete without a fireplace? It was made of beautiful white stone, a decorative basket set to the side holding some chopped wood.

Crowley took it all in, distracting himself from the fact that he and Aziraphale were holding hands. Entwined fingers swinging gently between them. The warm, soft palm against his. Sturdy and comforting. And maddening. 

Crowley’s heart thudded against his ribs, his blood rushed in his ears, his eyes darted around the room, scanning for family members.

Aziraphale, steady as ever, led them to the desk. There was no one working, so he rang the small bell that sat on the desk beside the plaque that read _Reception_.

A nervous young man with a mop of dark, disheveled hair appeared from the office behind the desk and smiled.

“Hello, w-welcome to Th-the English Eden Inn: the seaside paradise.” He opened the ledger book on the desk and it slid off, landing with a thud. From the pained expression on his face, it must have landed on his foot.

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale smiled kindly at the young man, who was setting the large book back onto the desk and flipping to the correct page. “We are here for the wedding. The…” Aziraphale trailed off, looking to Crowley for help.

“The Helle/Device wedding,” he tossed to the man behind the counter, his eyes stuck on the green specks in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Reservation under Crowley.”

“Did I hear you say you’re here for the wedding?” A jolly voice rang out in a sort of spoken song. A woman with shockingly red hair bustled over to them, one hand extended toward them, the other holding a clipboard. She was draped in beaded necklaces and shawls and scarves of various colors and patterns. “I am Tracy, the wedding coordinator here at Eden. This is my assistant Newt. We are so happy to have you here. Most of the family isn’t set to arrive until later this evening, and my guess is that they will go straight to their rooms and rest up for the busy weekend, so you’ve got the rest of the day to yourselves!” 

“Oh, isn’t that nice!” Aziraphale smiled at Tracy and squeezed Crowley’s hand.

“Yeah, nice.” Crowley’s voice cracked.

“You are all set, your room is just upstairs, second door on your right.” Newt held a key out to them.

“ANTHONY!” 

A blur of dark fabric and Crowley was being crushed by two arms wound around his middle.

“It’s been too long! Bet you didn’t even miss me, did you?” The woman pulled back and Aziraphale could see that in her eyes glimmered the same mischievous spark that Crowley had. “Impossible. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you!”

She beamed and turned to Aziraphale. “Except maybe for you!” She stared at him as if she could see through to his soul and Aziraphale squirmed just a little under her gaze.

“Anathema Device,” she held out a hand and Aziraphale took it, shocked at the strength of her grip. “It’s _very_ nice to meet you.”

“Give him some room, An. You really don’t need to go through the whole ‘what are your intentions now give me your palm so I can read it’ thing.” Crowley crossed his arms over his chest, but he couldn’t hide his smile. He had missed her. Very much. And she had it right, she had been the best thing to happen to him. A best friend, a true companion through their rough childhood. And she was even more right about Aziraphale.

“I don’t have to read his palm. Could read his aura. Or tea leaves. Or cards. I’m flexible!” She winked at Aziraphale.

“You look great, An. It’s so good to see you.” Crowley felt his heart swell at the sight of her. She was a beautiful young woman. Long, dark hair swept into a messy braid, fierce eyes, a smile that could stop hearts. And it seemed to be doing so right now, as Newt was frozen behind the desk, key still held out, jaw still open, eyes wide behind his thick glasses.

“Newt,” Tracy placed a hand on his wrist and lowered it to the desk, “why don’t you be a dear and take their bags up to their room for them. It seems they have some catching up to do.”

Newt nodded mutely and stumbled around the desk, eyes still heart-shaped and stuck on Anathema. He took their bags and disappeared up the stairs.

“If you would like, I could get you a reservation at Kraken Barrel for tonight.” Tracy checked her clipboard. “It’s the best in town. Usually booked up a week in advance, but I know the chef, so I’m sure I can get you in. How about 6?”

“That would be perfect, Tracy. Thank you!” Anathema smiled gratefully.

“It’ll be under your name, dear!” Tracy nodded at Anathema, then swept away into the office.

“I’m going to run and get changed, then we can walk over to the restaurant. It’s really not far, and you’ve just _got_ to see this town! It’s so quaint!” Anathema pecked Crowley on the cheek, smiled at Aziraphale, and disappeared in a swish of long skirts. 

“She’s lovely,” Aziraphale smiled after her.

“She’s a menace.” Crowley shook his head and offered Aziraphale his arm. “Sit on the porch while we wait?”

Aziraphale’s eyelashes fluttered as a shy smile settled across his lips. “Oh yes. I think that would be lovely.”

He settled his hand against Crowley’s arm and Crowley willed his knees to be steady as he led his angel outside. The wrap-around deck housed several benches and adirondack chairs, which were all empty, thank Someone. Crowley dropped his arm and let Aziraphale choose the seat he wanted, then settled into the chair beside him. Their hands lay on the arms of their chairs, close, almost touching, but not quite. Crowley’s muscles twitched, itching to reach out and take his angel’s hand again. But there was no one around to see. No reason to pretend.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the ocean churn and fold over itself in foamy hills that disappeared into the cool blue expanse.

“Ready boys?” Anathema called fifteen minutes later, appearing around the corner dressed in a long dress, deep blue, with sheer cap sleeves and a satin sash tied neatly around her waist. If this was her dinner dress, Crowley wondered what her wedding look would be. She always went above and beyond.

“‘Bout time,” Crowley groaned as he pushed himself out of his chair. “Ready, angel?” 

He reached out his hand to Aziraphale, who took it slowly, carefully, as a pink tint rose in his cheeks. _Too much. Slow down._

“Ready.” Aziraphale let Crowley help him to his feet and the two followed Anathema down the front steps and toward the restaurant. 

As they walked, Anathema recounted her life story to Aziraphale, focusing on the last few years, which she had spent in America tracking down her birth family and researching her lineage. 

“It was truly fascinating! I come from a long line of occultists. I always knew I was inclined, but it’s nice to know where it comes from. To feel connected to my ancestors.” She turned and led them to the restaurant, holding the door open and following her brother and his date inside.

_His date._

Crowley knew Anathema was all talked out about herself and, once they were seated, the conversation would turn to him and Aziraphale. His stomach knotted.

They sat and chatted about the wedding until the waiter had taken their order and disappeared to the back of the restaurant.

“Okay. Tell me everything!” Anathema placed her elbows on the table and folded her hands below her chin. She stared at Crowley expectantly, if not a bit intimidatingly. 

“M’afraid you’re going to have to be more specific than that, sis.” Crowley retorted with a smirk, then downed the rest of his wine.

“Fine. Be that way. Aziraphale,” she turned to face him, “tell me, how did you meet?”

Before Crowley could cut in, Aziraphale’s smile stunned him speechless.

“It was quite an introduction, actually. I was at the park, reading, as I often am, and who wanders by but this handsome man. Of course, I was instantly smitten, have you seen the way he walks? How he can move his hips like that is a mystery to me!” Aziraphale laughed, eyes sparkling.

“I have certainly seen it,” Anathema grinned, “and I’m sure those hips move all sorts of ways that-”

“An!” Crowley cut her off, voice cracking. His fists clench against his knees, white-knuckled, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

“It’s quite alright, dear. I do believe we’re past the age for embarrassment.” Aziraphale’s cheeks were tinged pink, but he smiled brightly as he placed a hand over Crowley’s. “Don’t you think?”

Crowley nodded and let his fingers relax. Aziraphale slipped his fingers between Crowley’s and set their hands on the table between them.

Anathema sat back, looking rather pleased with herself. “So, you’ve been together for about a year, right? Have you moved in together?”

Crowley had a string of nonsense syllables at the ready, but he swallowed them, letting Aziraphale answer.

“Not yet. You see, I own a bookshop and the flat above is rather small, far too small for two. And while Crowley’s flat is larger, it is not quite large enough for both of us, his plants, and my collection of rare first editions.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale and didn’t bother hiding his adoration. The angel was here, spinning stories that felt natural. They felt real.

As real as the hand holding his.

“And how do you plan to remedy that?” Anathema raised one eyebrow as she sipped her wine.

“I have been keeping an eye on what’s available near the shop, but as of yet I have not found anything that would suit us. Oh, thank you!” Aziraphale wiggled as their dinners were placed on the table before them.

“I’ve never had oysters,” Crowley mused quietly as he eyed the half-shells artfully arranged on a platter.

“Oh, well, let me tempt you!” Aziraphale lifted one and held it out to Crowley, whose throat was closing up.

“You know, oysters are said to be a powerful aphro-” 

“Shut it, An!” Crowley shot her his best glare, then turned back to Aziraphale, who raised the shell to his lips.

In his surprise, Crowley let his lips part, allowing the angel to tip the shell until the meat slid into his mouth. It was surprisingly good, lemon and sea mingling against his tongue. He swallowed, staring into Aziraphale’s anxious eyes.

“S’good.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.” Aziraphale smiled shyly at him through long lashes.

How were his lashes so long?

He turned, gently lifted another shell, this time resting it against his own lips. His eyes fluttered closed as a noise escaped from his throat.

It was a soft, but drawn out moan. 

Crowley’s jaw dropped.

Anathema froze, eyes darting between the men. 

“Is this normal?” she whispered.

“I’ll never get used to it,” Crowley admitted, absolutely truthfully.

After dinner, they made their way, somewhat tipsily, back to the inn. They wished Anathema a goodnight in the lobby and parted ways. 

“Guess we’d better find our room, then.” Aziraphale smiled, a soft whisper of a thing that made his eyes sparkle.

“Yeah, guess so.” Crowley’s heart flipped in his chest at the gentle fondness of the angel’s expression, the tender trust. He extended an arm, allowing Aziraphale to mount the stairs ahead of him.

They climbed in focused silence, holding tight to the railing as their heads swirled with the effects of the alcohol, not too much, just enough to keep things light and fun and easy. 

As Aziraphale reached the landing, his foot caught on the top step and he stumbled forward with a shriek of laughter. Crowley jumped up the last two stairs, winding his arms around the soft waist, somehow managing to prevent them both from tumbling back down the stairs. 

Aziraphale blinked up at Crowley, his lips parted into a little ‘o’ shape.

Crowley blinked down at him, only now realizing how close they were. In the search for their balance, they had found themselves against the wall, Aziraphale sandwiched between it and Crowley. They stood nearly nose to nose, staring at each other.

Aziraphale’s chest began to rumble, to shake against Crowley’s and it only took a few moments to break free, a fit of silvery angelic giggles that scrunched his face, showing the laugh lines and joyful wrinkles around his eyes. Crowley couldn’t help but join in, resting his forehead against Aziraphale’s shoulder as they laughed together.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed as he caught his breath. A warm hand ran over Crowley’s arm. 

“Yeah, s’no problem. Can’t have you hitting your head,” Crowley mumbled as he pulled away from the warm comfort of his angel’s embrace.

“I do believe that’s our room,” Aziraphale inclined his head to a room across the hall and one door down. He straightened his waistcoat as he crossed the distance, rather clumsily unlocking the door.

“After you!” He held the door open and Crowley was sure he was fighting the urge to give a small bow.

Crowley entered and fumbled for the nearest light switch.

“Shit! I forgot.” His stomach dropped when the light revealed a single queen-sized bed. “It was supposed to be for me and... I’ll see if they’ve got another room.” 

He turned to leave.

“No.”

“What?” Crowley froze, hand on the doorknob. His heart stopped. Time froze. Or perhaps melted into thick, stringy seconds that swirled and pooled in muddy masses. He turned to Aziraphale, his body moving slowly through air that felt like molasses.

“It would be suspicious, don’t you think?” Aziraphale’s voice was steady, his hands clasped behind his back. “We’ve been together a year. It would seem rather conspicuous if we had separate rooms, especially this far along in our relationship.”

“Yeah. I, er, well, right. But…” Crowley stammered.

“I don’t mind sleeping in the armchair. I’ve spent many nights in one at the bookshop. It’s really no trouble at all.” 

“No, you take the bed. You’re doing this as a favor for me, the least I can do is let you have the bed. I’ll camp out on the floor. Like a slumber party.” Crowley joked with a casual shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Oh no, my dear. That is quite unacceptable. The chair will do nicely.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a smile so warm that he was sure his heart was melting inside his chest.

“No, angel. Absolutely not. I would be up all night wishing you were in bed.” Crowley’s cheeks burned instantly and he noticed that a lighter shade colored Aziraphale’s cheeks as well. “I mean, that you were sleeping in the bed. Because you deserve it. For doing me the favor. Huge favor. Deserves a bed. Just for you.”

Crowley wished he could lock himself in the bathroom, flee out the door, defenestrate himself. Or maybe he should just move out of the way and allow Aziraphale to leave. He must want to. This oversight was huge. Possibly unforgivable.

“It seems we are at an impasse, yes?” Aziraphale studied the bed, crossing to the foot of it and tilting his head to one side, then the other. “I will take up more room width-wise, but I think we should both be able to fit with plenty of space between us.”

Crowley didn’t respond. He was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t figure out which muscles he needed to close it.

Aziraphale bustled to the set of drawers in the corner and pulled out an extra blanket. He shook it out in a well-practiced snap of his wrists and swiftly rolled it up. He crossed once again to the bed and paused, hands unsteady around the blanket.

“Do you have a preference my dear?” His eyes were stormy grey in the poor lighting of a single hotel lamp, and there was a cloud of uncertainty in them.

“No. No preference.” Crowley shook his head and managed to locate the muscles needed to control his jaw.

“Oh, lovely. I always like to sleep close to the window, so,” he leaned over and placed the blanket as a barrier down the center of the bed, “you can have this side.” He stood up and patted Crowley’s side of the bed, shooting another heart-melting smile.

“Sure.” He watched Aziraphale as he turned away from the bed and unzipped his suitcase. He carefully placed each item into a drawer and smoothing it before moving on to the next. He moved with an easy grace, fluid precision. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. 

Crowley sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard, pretending to check his phone. His eyes were aimed at Aziraphale, but they kept wandering back to the blanket, the boundary line, the wall built to keep them separate. 

He reached down and carefully shifted it closer to himself, moving slowly so as not to draw attention. Give the angel as much room as he needs. It should be the whole bed, but they’d already had that discussion and this was the best he could offer at present. 

He fully intended to give as much as he could.


	5. Welcome to Hell, Angel

Aziraphale drifted into consciousness slowly, eyes closed, enjoying the comforting quiet and coziness of a soft mattress and blanket. He lay on his back, hands resting against his chest, the familiar fabric soothing under his fingertips. He took a deep breath in and felt a weight across his stomach.

Odd.

He cracked one eye open to see an arm draped across his waist.

 _Oh_.

He sucked in a breath and turned his head slowly to find a handsome, and very much asleep, face beside his own. Crowley was beautiful, his red hair tousled, his features smooth and worry-free. He was still, peaceful in a way Aziraphale hadn’t seen before. Crowley was a creature of movement, always in motion, darting and slithering about, ready to run at a moment’s notice. Ready to leave.

Aziraphale had to prepare for that reality.

As much as he longed to wrap an arm around Crowley and pull him close, he knew that this moment was a mistake. If Crowley were awake, he would never have let this happen. Would never want it to happen. So, Aziraphale gently eased himself out from under the pleasant weight of Crowley’s arm and headed off to the bathroom to shower and prepare for the day.

When he emerged from the bathroom, showered, brushed, and dressed, Crowley was sitting against the headboard and scrolling on his phone.

“Good morning, my dear!” Aziraphale greeted him with a smile.

“Morning angel,” Crowley drawled groggily. “Sleep well?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I? Absolutely tickety-boo!” Aziraphale’s words tumbled out of his mouth, even as he tried to hold them in.

“Right, good,” Crowley nodded, brow slightly furrowed. “You done?” He inclined his head toward the bathroom.

“Yes. It’s all yours!” Aziraphale crossed to the window and settled into the chair there as Crowley pushed himself off the bed and sauntered toward the restroom.

“Hey, er, thanks.” Crowley’s hand rubbed at the back of his neck as if he were feeling…

_Vulnerable._

“For what?”

“Yesterday, with An. You were really great.” He smiled shyly and Aziraphale’s stomach flipped. Crowley looked so soft in this state, dressed in his loose-fitting pajamas, hair ruffled from sleep, gentle grin lighting up his features.

“She is quite lovely and very good company. I wouldn’t mind a few more dinners with her.” Aziraphale grinned, then nearly choked on his own tongue. “I mean, spending more time with her. This weekend. For the wedding.”

“M’sure she’d like that, too.” Crowley’s words were soft and then he was gone, slipping through the door and closing it behind him.

Aziraphale heaved a frustrated sigh and stared out the window, wondering if there was a way to stop his traitorous tongue before it said something that would make Crowley uncomfortable.

“Welcome to Hell, angel,” Crowley whispered as they entered the dining nook downstairs. There was a long table in the corner of the room, heaped with bagels, muffins, fruit, cereal, and other breakfast items, while the majority of the space was taken up with small round tables surrounded by chairs. Everything was decorated with the same nautical blue and white color scheme, which created a light, cozy atmosphere.

Seated around the tables were an assortment of characters that were in stark contrast to their surroundings - dark, loud, sharp.

“Crowley!” A man called. He was pale with messy blonde hair and startlingly dark eyes.

“Hey, Hastur. How’ve you been?” Crowley asked, leading Aziraphale over to the table, but keeping himself slightly ahead, between Aziraphale and the family. As if protecting.

“Got promoted, actually. Last month. Pretty big deal.” Hastur raised his coffee mug in salute of himself.

“What are you now, a duke?” Crowley smirked.

“I’m doing fine, too, thanks for asking,” the man beside Hastur interrupted. He was as dark as Hastur was pale, with strong features and fierce eyes.

“Was getting there, Ligur.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “You get a promotion, too?”

“No, but it’s only ‘cause I don’t trust my boss.”

“You never trust anyone,” Crowley groaned.

“It’d be a funny old world if we went around trusting people in power,” Ligur grimaced.

“What does that make Hastur then, eh? Now that he’s got a promotion, is he a person of power?” Crowley grinned crookedly and quickly led Aziraphale away from the table as Ligur and Hastur got into an argument about exactly how much power Hastur now possessed and whether or not he was now in a suspect position.

“Crowley!”

“Hey Adam,” Crowley greeted a boy with bright eyes and curly hair.

“Is this your date?” He asked, staring up at Aziraphale.

“Yeah, Adam, meet Aziraphale. Aziraphale, Adam.” Crowley gestured between them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Aziraphale shook Adam’s hand.

“Those are my parents,” Adam pointed to a kindly looking couple seated a few feet away.

“Dierdre and Arthur,” Crowley supplied, waving over to them. “I’m sure you’ll meet them properly later.”

“I look forward to it.” Aziraphale gave a small wave as well. 

Without thinking, Crowley placed a hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back to guide him forward.

_Too much? Too fast?_

“Crowley the traitor.” A voice stopped them along their journey to the buffet table. Crowley was grateful for the distraction.

“Dagon, Beez,” Crowley turned and gave a small bow, once again putting himself between the family and Aziraphale. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Dagon answered with a toothy grin. “Glad you could make it.”

“F’course. Wouldn’t miss your wedding. We’re family after all.”

“Who’s this?” Beez was staring at Aziraphale with piercing eyes.

“This is my, er, boyfriend Aziraphale.” Crowley stumbled over the words and Aziraphale wondered if they felt sweet or bitter in his mouth.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Aziraphale stepped forward and shook both their hands.

“Aziraphale?” Dagon asked, eyebrows raised.

“Ah, yes. My family was extremely religious, you see.” Aziraphale answered with a smile.

“Could change it,” Beez shrugged.

“I suppose I could, but what to?” He was only partially joking. He’d often wondered if he should change his name to something more common. Or shorter.

“He’s not changing his name. It suits him.” Crowley said flatly. “Now, time for breakfast.” 

He turned and tugged on Aziraphale’s hand to follow.

Aziraphale managed to say a quick “Excuse us” before being dragged to the buffet table.  
  
“So, you’re a traitor are you?” Aziraphale asked as they walked.

“Haven’t called in ages. Barely respond to texts. Miracle I’m still in the family, really.” Crowley shrugged.

“Ah. Quite the traitor indeed. Though, I don’t suppose I’m one to talk.” Aziraphale mused as they reached the buffet.

“Sorry ‘bout all that,” Crowley mumbled as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Nothing to be sorry for, my dear.” Aziraphale was admiring the selection of pastries when he felt a hand on his arm.

“I meant it, you know. Your name. It suits you.” Crowley’s eyes were eager, the faintest hint of color in his cheeks.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, realizing how very close they were. He supposed it helped sell the illusion that they were together, but Crowley’s hand stayed on his arm, his eyes held Aziraphale’s longer than strictly necessary, and it didn’t feel like an illusion. 

“If you two don’t stop that, I might throw up.” A voice drifted over the top of a newspaper at the table beside them. It was folded with two swift movements, accompanied by soft _whooshes_ of air, to reveal dark eyes blinking up from behind a pair of round glasses, and a cheeky grin.

“Shut up, An.” Crowley’s cheeks darkened and he turned to the table, slamming food down onto a plate.

“Good morning, Anathema. I hope you slept well.” Aziraphale selected a particularly scrumptious looking blueberry galette and placed it carefully on his plate before moving down towards the bowls of fresh fruit. 

“I did! And you?” She asked with a suspicious look in her eye, standing and joining them at the buffet. Her long skirt swished as she moved, her dark hair pulled into a high bun.

“Quite well, thank you.” Aziraphale quite enjoyed playing this game. He knew Anathema would claim victory at the first sign of blush or falter, so he gave her a quick side-glance and returned his focus to the food before him.

“Good, because we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today.” Anathema bounced around them to grab her own plate.

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked slowly.

“I told Newt we’d help him and Tracy set up for the wedding!” She beamed.

“Newt?” Crowley’s voice was monotone.

“The young man from the front desk, dear,” Aziraphale reminded him. “When?”

“As soon as we’re done eating!”

Once they were full of pastry and coffee, the three of them headed outside to the lawn where Newt and Tracy were standing by the gazebo that overlooked the water.

“Reporting for duty!” Anathema called as they approached, sending poor Newt stumbling. He dropped his armful of ribbons and hastily dropped to his knees to retrieve them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Anathema joined him, helping him gather the bows and spools.

“It-it’s okay. I’m just clumsy,” Newt squeaked and pushed his glasses up.

“Thank you for helping us. So much to do and not much time to do it!” Tracy bounded around them, clipboard in hand. “Now, why don’t you two boys get the lights up and Anathema, you can help Newt with the ribbon!”

“Sure,” Anathema smiled warmly at Newt, who was staring back at her with a soppy grin.

Tracy smiled knowingly at them, then turned to face Crowley and Aziraphale. “Here’s a photo for reference, stepladder and staple-gun are already in the gazebo.” She gestured vaguely in the right direction. “Let me know if you need any help! Newt has my number!” 

And with that, she was moving across the lawn in a blur of color.

“She certainly is a whirlwind!” Aziraphale chuckled.

“That’s a nice way of saying it,” Crowley inspected the photo Tracy had handed him. “This looks hard.”

“Oh, dear. Let me see.” Aziraphale leaned over to get a closer look and felt Crowley take a quick breath in. They were close again, shoulder to shoulder. If Aziraphale straightened up just a bit it would be so easy to tip his head up and...

“We can manage this quite easily, I think.” He shook his head, to clear it, and nodded at the image. 

“You’re going to have to take the lead then.” Crowley held out the photo to Aziraphale.

As he took it, their fingers brushed, sending a spark down Aziraphale’s spine. Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to the tangled mess of lights on the gazebo floor.

“Ready, angel?” He inclined his head in invitation and Aziraphale nodded. 

“I’m going to need all the heavenly influence you’ve got to get me through this,” Crowley grumbled, grabbing a fistful of knots and lifting it.

“Oh, come now, it’s not so bad!”

It was that bad, but at least they had each other for company. And the entertaining antics of Anathema and Newt attempting to tie the bows that would go around the chairs for the ceremony. At one point Newt ended up wrapped up in the deep crimson satin and only managed to make it worse when trying to free himself. Anathema ended up having to cut him out as he lay on the ground wriggling like a worm.

“We have to run into town to get more ribbon,” Anathema giggled as she crossed to where Crowley and Aziraphale sat, surrounded by carefully detangled light strands. “Need anything while we’re there?”

“Nah, m’good. How ‘bout you, angel?” Crowley lounged back on his hands, head lolling to one side.

“I’m fine, but thank you very much.”

“Okay. Don’t fall off the ladder while I’m gone.” With a wave, she and Newt strolled across the lawn and down the road into town. 

Aziraphale was quite sure that Newt nearly fainted when Anathema threaded her arm through his.

“Okay, get up there and I’ll hand everything to you.” Crowley was holding the stepstool steady, looking expectantly up at Aziraphale.

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale accepted Crowley’s offer of a hand as he steadied himself on the stool. “Ready!”

Crowley handed first the strand of lights, then the staple gun, and before Aziraphale could even open his mouth to ask, Crowley was holding the reference photo out for him to see.

“Thank you, my dear!” Aziraphale looked down for a moment, just long enough to catch the hint of a pleased smile that played at the corners of Crowley’s mouth, then focused on the task at hand.

He climbed up and down the ladder, stapling strand after strand of lights, while Crowley hovered, handing him things, holding the photo, taking his hand to steady him. It was really rather nice to be the focus of such caring attention.

He handed the staple gun to Crowley and was about to step down when he noticed a loose bulb. He reached up to fix it with one hand, the other steadying himself against the post.

“Need help?” Crowley asked.

“No, I’m almost done,” Aziraphale assured, though his voice sounded more strained than he wanted. 

He tried again with one hand, but the base of the light kept moving whenever he tried to press the bulb into it.

He took a breath and released his hold of the post, bringing both hands up to snap the bulb into place. He reached a hand down to steady himself again but missed the post. He swayed for a moment as his stomach dropped, and braced himself for the impact with the gazebo floor, but it didn’t come. Instead, he was wrapped in strong, steady arms.

“Careful there, angel. Can’t let you fall now, can we?”

Crowley’s face was so close, his arms cradling Aziraphale as if he were something special. Something worth protecting. Something worth loving.

There was something in Crowley’s eyes, in the way he held him, that made the word _love_ echo in Aziraphale’s head.

Crowley’s eyes moved, just briefly, away from Aziraphale’s and the world spun. Aziraphale let a hand move, tucking a stray strand of red hair back into place. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing along the curve of Crowley’s nose, the light sprinkle of freckles on his cheeks, the line of his jaw. His lips.

His arms were coming to rest around Crowley’s shoulders, pulling them closer…

“Lunch!”

Aziraphale scrambled up and out of Crowley’s arms.

“Lunch already?” He asked breathlessly.

“Guess so. Should we, er…” Crowley held out a hand casually. “Don’t have to.”

“We should. I mean, yes.” Aziraphale gave Crowley his hand and the two of them headed back towards the main house.

Tracy stood on the porch, ever-present clipboard in hand, grinning.


	6. A Rehearsal

After lunch, which had been a lovely spread of sandwiches, caesar salad, and fresh lemonade, Crowley and Aziraphale wandered out to the lawn once again, Dog in tow.

Crowley gently squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, letting them swing between them as they walked. 

His stomach was full and his heart felt even more so. 

Earlier that day he had held Aziraphale in his arms and it had felt incredible. And even more than that, Aziraphale had held him too. No matter that it had been an accident, it had all worked out. If he wasn’t mistaken, Aziraphale had been about to kiss him, at least until Tracy had announced lunch. 

Could this be something real?

“Dog seems to like it here,” Aziraphale chuckled, watching as the energetic pup scampered and jumped around in joy.

“He likes any place he can run around and cause trouble.” Crowley tugged on the leash and pulled Dog away from a squirrel. “No more of that,” he muttered under his breath.

“He is a well-behaved dog, isn’t he though? Doesn’t bite or jump onto you, he’s just a friendly little guy,” Aziraphale leaned over to give Dog a quick scratch behind the ear.

“He’s alright. We gotta make sure he’s ready for the wedding, though.”

“I thought he was ready,” Aziraphale straightened up, giving Crowley a quizzical look.

“Adam trained him. We just gotta make sure he’s really ready for the big day. Get him used to the route.” Crowley explained as he led Aziraphale across the lawn. It was a lovely spot, a view of the water behind them as they tucked themselves into the shade of a nearby tree. The chairs that Anathema and Newt had tied ribbons around were lined up in neat rows, creating an aisle leading to the now well-lit gazebo where the couple would stand for the ceremony.

“And why isn’t Adam doing this?” Aziraphale asked, his blue eyes focused on the shimmer of sunlight across the water as it rippled and swirled.

“Kid did a good job training him,” Crowley squatted down and scratched Dog’s chin and ruffled his fur, “but Dagon wanted me to make sure the hellhound was ready. Beez wasn’t super into the idea of a dog as the ring bearer, so I’m, er, we’re here to make sure nothing goes wrong!” 

Dog lay down and rolled over, gladly accepting belly-rubs from Crowley.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want anyone falling into the water now, would we?” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled and his lips pulled up into a mischievous grin.

“Don’t think that will happen. “ Crowley stared out over the water for a moment, entranced by the gentle movement. “We’re too far from…” In his mind he saw an image of himself and Aziraphale falling into the water and he whipped around to face Aziraphale, who was smiling rather smugly, hands clasped ever so properly behind him. 

“Of course. How silly of me to bring it up. Quite unheard of, falling into bodies of water.” Aziraphale rocked between his toes and his heels, positively _glowing_ with delight.

“Are you going to stand there and sass me or are you going to help?” Crowley stood and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I do not sass!” Aziraphale’s jaw dropped in the most outrageous look of shock. 

Crowley smirked. The angel should have been an actor. Those overworked expressions would surely have won him an award or two.

“Oh, what do you call it then?” Crowley cocked a hip and tipped his head to one side.

“I riposte!” Aziraphale beamed.

Crowley smiled back at the man, the angel, before him and he felt something bubbling up inside of him. He tried to shove it back down, but like the ocean before him, it was strong and in constant motion, unable to be contained, unable to be controlled. The waves of it were growing ever higher and Crowley was barely keeping his head up for air.

He studied that smile, the gorgeous folds around those sparkling eyes, the soft lips, the round cheeks, the flutter of eyelashes that hinted that maybe he felt the same…

No. He was imagining it.

A wave crashed down and Crowley gasped for air.

“So, how do we do this?” Aziraphale asked, interrupting Crowley’s turbulent emotions.

“Right, so we send him up and down the aisle a bunch of times. Make sure he doesn’t run off.” Crowley unclipped the leash from Dog’s collar, grateful for something to do that didn’t involve looking at Aziraphale.

“Ah, a rehearsal, then?”

“Sure. A rehearsal.” Crowley rolled his eyes and the water threatened to surge.

“Wonderful! How can I best be of assistance?” Aziraphale scratched Dog behind the ear.

“Why don’t you walk with him, keep him on track, and I’ll stand at the end and call to him.” Crowley suggested, keeping his eyes focused on Dog.

“Sounds like a very good plan, my dear! Don’t you think?” He asked Dog, who yipped playfully in response.

Crowley strode down the aisle and turned back. 

“Here Dog. Here boy.” He patted his thigh and Dog started trotting toward him. 

It was going rather well, actually.

Until he looked up.

Aziraphale was walking down the aisle towards him. And he was beautiful.

Dressed in light colors, hands clasped before him in a manner that could have held a bouquet, stepping carefully and deliberately. Crowley could almost hear a string quartet playing.

_Shit_. _ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT._

Crowley tumbled under a huge wave and he didn’t know which way was up.

“I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Aziraphale stood before Crowley, smiling softly and looking radiant against the tree-studded horizon.

“Yeah. But we should try it again. Each time I’ll move closer to where I’ll actually be during the ceremony.”

“Of course! Practice makes perfect!” Aziraphale wiggled, _wiggled_ , and walked back up the aisle with Dog in tow. He chatted to Dog as they went and reset for the next runthrough. “Well, not perfect, you know, but better. Much, much better. Are you ready for another go?”

Dog looked up at him and tilted his head to one side.

“You are rather adorable. You will need a bit of a grooming before the wedding. Perhaps a nice bath.”

Aziraphale’s voice carried just enough that Crowley could hear. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt you two, but we do have a wedding to get ready for!” Crowley called as he threw his arms out to gesture to the chairs and platform setup.

“Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me. I got a bit carried away!” Aziraphale straightened his shoulders and began to walk towards Crowley. Again.

This weekend was definitely going to kill him.

After Crowley was happy with Dog’s ability to not ruin the wedding, he and Aziraphale walked back to the inn.

Crowley’s heart raced as his hand found Aziraphale’s and their fingers intertwined. He had a feeling he’d never get used to this and he was okay with that. 

Would be okay with it as long as it lasted. Which wasn’t much longer.

He thought he could see a faint blush paint the angel’s cheeks, but it may have been the sunset sky streaked with shades of red and orange.

“There’s a fire pit over there, you know,” Crowley inclined his head toward a small path leading down toward the water. “We could bring dinner there and eat by the water. Would be a lot quieter than eating with the family, anyway.”

“That sounds lovely.” Aziraphale stopped walking, but kept his hand in Crowley’s. “Shall you fetch dinner or should I?”

“I’m sure I can manage the fire if you want to be in charge of food.”

_Crap_. He hadn’t thought this through very well. He could figure it out though, right? Starting a fire couldn’t be that hard...

“I wouldn’t mind handling the fire.” Aziraphale smiled softly up at him. “I’ve had a fireplace for as long as I can remember. That is, if you wouldn’t mind procuring the nibbles?”

Crowley felt a grin spread across his face. He couldn’t help it. He was falling for Aziraphale. 

“I don’t mind _procuring the nibbles_ , but geez, angel,” Crowley scrunched his face in mock disgust, “can’t you just call it dinner? Or food? Even gross matter is better!”

He dropped Aziraphale’s hand and started toward the kitchen, walking backwards so he could see the angel’s reactions.

“ _Gross matter?”_ He sputtered, his hands flitting about, his face flickering between amusement and horror. “Absolutely not! Crowley, how dare you!”

“Don’t miss me while I’m gone, angel!” Crowley called, then turned and sprinted. Across the lawn, around the porch, through the lobby, and into the small dining area. 

“Newt! I need food!”

Ten minutes later Crowley placed a basket down beside the fire pit. The fire was small, but crackling away. He was sure it was expertly done and would be roaring in no time.

“Your _nibbles_ , good sir.” He gave a deep, dramatic bow, which earned him a swat from Aziraphale.

“Just sit down, would you?” The angel rolled his eyes, but his lips betrayed his good mood. 

“It’s nothing fancy, just some snacks and sandwiches, but I did find something special for dessert!” Crowley bragged as he began to unpack the basket, handing each item to Aziraphale, who arranged the items neatly. 

Plates, cloth napkins, a few packets of crisps, two shiny red apples, and two sandwiches, wrapped in parchment paper.

“Egg and watercress. Hope that’s okay.” Crowley settled onto the bench beside Aziraphale and took the plate offered to him.

“Sounds scrummy.” Aziraphale wiggled and began to carefully unwrap his sandwich, pausing when Crowley snickered. “What?”

“Where do you get these phrases? Do you have a handbook of old phrases that you carry with you?” Crowley leaned back onto one hand, the other rubbing at his face as he laughed. 

“Of course not!” Aziraphale pouted. An adorable, lip-pushed-out pout.

“You’re right. You’d have it memorized!” Crowley threw his head back in laughter as he cackled.

“Stop that!” 

Crowley felt something hit him in the side of the head. He turned to see Aziraphale staring at him smugly, open bag of crisps in hand.

“Did you just throw a crisp at me?” Crowley gaped at the angel.

“If I did, would you claim you didn’t deserve it?” Aziraphale popped a crisp into his mouth and crunched.

“Nah. Probably deserve worse.” Crowley sat up and unwrapped his sandwich. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crackle of the fire and the crash of the waves, watching as the sky darkened.

“You’re wrong you know.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, but firm.

“About?”

“You think you deserve only the worst, but you’re wrong. You deserve happiness. I-” Aziraphale faltered, but only for a moment. “I’m glad we met. Even if this was an unconventional start to our friendship, I am very glad to have it.”

The golden light of the fire danced in Aziraphale’s blue eyes, playing on the depths of emotion that hid just below the surface, whirling and churning, hidden by layers and antique buttons.

“I’m glad too.” Crowley’s fingers twitched, longing to reach out and touch, comfort his angel, reassure him that he felt the same. 

He reached for the basket instead.

“Dessert?”

As if they were a treasure or a trophy, Crowley held aloft a package of graham crackers, a sleeve of chocolate, and a bag of marshmallows. 

“S’mores?” Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide, shimmering in the fire’s glow.

Crowley winked and ripped at the packaging. 

He skewered two marshmallows on metal rods, handed one to Aziraphale, and placed his marshmallow directly into the fire.

“Crowley, no! It’ll burn!”

“S’gonna burn anyway, this just speeds it along. More time for more smores.” He nudged Aziraphale playfully.

“Oh, no, my dear. You mustn’t!” Aziraphale carefully held his marshmallow at the edge of the coals, away from the flame, but near enough to turn it a nice golden brown. Given time and patience, that is.

Neither of which Crowley felt like dedicating to the cause.

“I must, I’m afraid.” He pulled the flaming marshmallow from the fire, blew it out, and haphazardly assembled a smore, eating it in three large bites.

“You’re doing it all wrong!” Aziraphale pouted again. 

“Tastes fine to me!” Crowley said through a mouth of gooey treat. 

“It may taste fine, but only because you don’t know better. Let me show you.” Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to skewer another marshmallow, so he did.

He moved to put it into the flames, but Aziraphale’s hand covered his, guiding it slowly toward the edge of the fire pit.

“Keep turning it, so it will cook evenly.” Aziraphale instructed, releasing Crowley’s hand.

“How long?”

“However long it takes!” Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled, highlighted by the shadows cast over his face.

“Better be worth the wait.”

“I promise it will be.”

They sat in silence once again, carefully tending to their marshmallows until they were a beautiful golden brown.

They pressed the gooey morsel between crackers and chocolate and each took a bite.

Aziraphale hummed his approval and Crowley couldn’t help but agree.

“S’good. You were right.” He conceded, taking another bite.

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale hummed again, taking another bite himself.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Crowley asked, staring up at the stars. He loved living in London, but he missed the stars.

“Yes. I think it will be lovely.” Aziraphale wiped his fingers carefully on the napkin and gently placed it back into the basket. “Are you?”

“Guess so. Just one more day and we’ll be back to normal.” Crowley sighed and turned to the angel. “You’ve got a little,” Crowley gestured to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth where a bit of gooey marshmallow sat.

“Hmm?” Aziraphale asked, oblivious.

“Here, let me.” Crowley reached over and wiped it away with his thumb, realizing only too late, that he had touched the angel’s lips. Those lips that had been teasing and torturing, soothing and smiling... 

Crowley’s hand didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled around, cupping Aziraphale’s cheek.

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch.

“Angel…” Crowley breathed, leaning in. Heart racing, barely breathing, thumb ghosting over Aziraphale’s bottom lip.

Aziraphale’s lips were parted. He tilted his chin up, ready, waiting, inviting…

And then there was Dog.

Yipping and bounding around the firepit, knocking into the basket, and playfully tugging at Crowley’s pant leg for him to join in the fun.

“What the hell?” Crowley yelped, jumping up and shaking pup off.

“Sorry! I was just taking him out before bed and he got away from me.” Adam ran over and grabbed hold of the leash. “You okay?”

“Of course, dear boy, nothing to worry about. Just a bit of a surprise!” Aziraphale beamed up at him. “We probably should be heading in, too. We wouldn’t want to be groggy and grumpy tomorrow, right dear?”

Aziraphale stood, taking the basket in one hand and holding the other out to Crowley, shy grin on his face.

“Right.”

Crowley let Aziraphale prepare for bed first, then locked himself in the bathroom.

Tomorrow. After the wedding.

He would tell Aziraphale how he felt. 

Aziraphale was asleep when Crowley climbed into bed.


	7. Wedding Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema stood, tucked the newspaper under her arm, and lifted Crowley’s mug of coffee from the table. “He really likes you. More than I’ve seen him like anyone. Don’t hurt him.”
> 
> Aziraphale’s heart crumbled. “I, er, well, what I mean is-”
> 
> “Talk to him.”

Aziraphale once again drifted into consciousness, this time to a tangle of limbs. He and Crowley were on their sides, facing each other, legs tossed together under the blankets, one arm each thrown over the other, their other hands laying side by side between them. Crowley’s head lay above Aziraphale’s by a few inches, lips parted slightly as he breathed steadily.

Aziraphale longed to know what those lips would feel like pressed against his own.

He nearly found out after falling off the stepladder. Crowley had caught him, cradled him, held him carefully. Had tightened his hold when Aziraphale’s arms slipped around his shoulders. Leaned in as Aziraphale had pulled them closer…

Crowley murmured something unintelligible and flopped over onto his back, releasing Aziraphale from his hold and allowing him to slip out of bed.

There was a wedding today and Aziraphale wanted to look his very best for his handsome date.

Aziraphale showered and dressed, then slipped out of the room without waking Crowley.

He greeted Newt, who was on the phone at the front desk, furiously taking notes, one hand running through his already disheveled hair and knocking his glasses askew.

Tracy gave him a quick peck on the cheek and thanked him for all his help yesterday. _Heaven sent,_ she insisted.

The only member of the family that was in the breakfast nook was Anathema. She sat at the table closest to the buffet, scanning the local newspaper from behind thick-rimmed, round glasses.

“Good morning, Anathema.”

“Good morning. And where is your demon?” She asked with a quick glance and a smile.

 _Your_ demon.

“Still asleep I’m afraid. I think I’ll surprise him by bringing breakfast up to the room for him.” Aziraphale began to load up two plates with eggs and bacon and pastries.

“Don’t forget the coffee. He’s a full blown hellion without it. Though I suppose I don’t need to warn you of that.” 

“I suppose you don’t.” Aziraphale stared into the mug as it filled with steaming liquid. He wished he knew. He wished he could have the privilege of making coffee for Crowley in the morning, waking him with a kiss, listening to him grumble as he pulled himself out of sleep and out of bed.

What a privilege that would be.

“What’s your sign?” Anathema interrupted his thoughts just before the mug overflowed. He set the pot down and turned to face her.

“My what?”

“Your sign. The earth is a Libra and you’re…?” She peeked out from around the side of the newspaper.

“Oh, I believe I’m a Pisces.”

“Pisces and Scorpio - strong match.” Anathema mused as her eyes scanned the page. “Be brave today. Things will go your way if you only find the courage to step outside of your comfort zone. Communicate your feelings, needs, and boundaries clearly to avoid conflict. Indulge in chocolate.”

Anathema placed the paper on the table and interlaced her fingers under her chin.

“Any thoughts on that?” Her dark eyes blinked behind her glasses.

“I’m afraid I never really went in for such things. Never quite understood all the fuss.” Aziraphale smiled, hoping it didn’t reveal his nerves. The thought of revealing his feelings for Crowley was… even if he had a suspicion that Crowley felt the same… though he couldn’t be sure… he’d had his fair share of rejection, but to be rejected by Crowley would be devastating…

“Whatever it is you’re hiding from Crowley, it’s time to stop.” Anathema’s gaze was fierce. Aziraphale flinched under it. “I don’t know what it is and I don’t need to know, but he does. He acts tough, but he’s really a softie.”

She stood, tucked the newspaper under her arm, and lifted Crowley’s mug of coffee from the table.

“He really likes you. More than I’ve seen him like anyone. Don’t hurt him.”

Aziraphale’s heart crumbled.

“I, er, well, what I mean is-”

“Just don’t.”

She inclined her head toward the door and started towards it. Aziraphale rushed to scoop up the two plates and follow her. They walked in silence up the stairs, to the door. She held a plate while Aziraphale unlocked the door, then handed it back to him, pressing Crowley mug into his hand with care not to jostle the food.

“Talk to him.”

Aziraphale shuffled into the room, balancing the plates and mug of coffee as he stepped over to the desk and settled everything into a nice table setting.

The bedsheets were rumpled, thrown aside, and the water was running from behind the bathroom door.

Aziraphale settled himself into the chair and picked at a chocolate croissant while he waited for Crowley to join him. 

When he did, it was a whirlwind. 

Crowley rushed out of the door, his arm caught in his shirt sleeve, eyes glued to his phone. He bumped into the bed and rolled over it instead of going around it.

“I brought breakfast,” Aziraphale gestured, “and coffee.”

“Thanks, but I’m late for a family thing. Pretty sure they never told me, but Hastur texted and said I was late. Thanks for the coffee, though. You really are an angel.”

He hopped over, pulling his boots on, and grabbed the mug of coffee.

“They’ll probably keep me hostage until the wedding, so I’ll see you there. Sorry about this.” He sipped at his coffee and stilled for the first moment since he emerged from the bathroom. “You remember how I take it?”

Amber eyes met blue, sending Aziraphale’s heart sprinting.

“Y-yes. I noticed yesterday. I hope that’s okay.” His hands wrung at his waist.

“More than.” Crowley smiled softly, crookedly, fondly.

“You’d better go,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Yeah. I should. Thanks for this,” Crowley raised his mug. “I’ll see you later, angel.” 

Crowley leaned in. He pressed a quick kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek.

He was gone before Aziraphale could recover enough to react.

Aziraphale spent most of the next few hours staring. At the pages of a book, out the window, at nothing.

He replayed his time with Crowley - from the first glimpse of a handsome stranger, to their topple into the pond, to their meals together, their almost kiss. He read between the lines…. 

And now this. 

It had been done so casually, so naturally, as if Crowley had done it a thousand times. 

As if Aziraphale weren’t the only one wishing for more.

“Anathema’s right. I have to tell him.”

The sound of his voice startled him, but he grinned. 

“After the wedding, I will tell Crowley that I want this for real. No more fake, pretend relationship. I’m all in.”

He dressed too early and spent the extra time pacing, both from anxiety and fear of wrinkling his suit by sitting.

It was his best cream suit, double breasted with a light tracing of tartan, paired with a crisp white shirt and a pale blue tie that he had been assured brought out his eyes. 

He ran his hands through his curls, trying to force them to do something special, but was unsuccessful. He settled for a slightly fluffier version of his everyday look.

And he paced.

And paced.

And paced.

Until it was finally time to head downstairs for the ceremony. 

He was ushered to his seat by a very polished Adam, in a smart navy suit with a deep red tie. Dog was sitting nearby wearing a crimson bow on his collar and being very well behaved. Aziraphale leaned down to give him a quick pet before taking his seat.

The seat beside his was empty. No Crowley.

 _Soon_.

He wrung his hands in his lap, eyes scanning across the lawn for any sighting of his tall red-headed date.

As he searched he noticed how lovely everything looked. The black seat covers tied with a silky red ribbon, matching ribbon circling around the posts of the gazebo along with the lights, which were twinkling in the late afternoon light. They had done rather a nice job and from Tracy’s satisfied smile, he knew she agreed.

She caught his eye and winked before checking her watch and striding away. Seeing to the last of the wedding details, he assumed.

And then his eyes found what he was looking for. He wore a slim-cut suit, black with a subtle paisley pattern on the jacket, a black shirt, and a crimson tie. His hair was artfully tousled and he grinned as he crossed to his seat beside Aziraphale.

“Angel, you look…” he trailed off.

“And you,” Aziraphale was staring and he didn’t care. His cheeks were burning and he didn’t care. He was surrounded by people who could see his reaction and he didn’t care. 

All he cared about was Crowley. And Crowley was staring at him, too.

Crowley slid into the seat and slipped his fingers between Aziraphale’s. 

“Sorry I was busy all day. I’m doing a reading and they made me practice it about a thousand times.”

“No need to apologize, dear. I look forward to seeing you up there.” Aziraphale blanched, imagining Crowley standing in the gazebo in that suit, looking at him the way he was now, saying _I do_ … 

“What I mean is that I’m sure you’ll do very well.” He swallowed hard. 

Crowley squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Thanks, angel.”

The ceremony was very nice.

Acoustic recordings of rock songs were played through the speakers set in the gazebo and everyone shifted in their seats.

Anathema walked down the aisle, flanked by Hastur and Ligur, who each wore smart black suits. Anathema wore a scarlet dress, her hair half pinned up, the rest falling down her back in dark waves. 

Dog trotted after them, earning a soft “aww” from the guests. He seemed awfully proud of himself.

Dagon and Beez walked arm-in-arm down the aisle, each smiling in the glowing way that only the wedding couple could.

Dagon wore a charcoal suit, straps and buckles in horizontal lines across their torso in a vaguely military fashion. Their hair was braided back in a long plait adorned with a single red dahlia. Their makeup was light, but shimmered in silvers and blues.

Beez wore a black swallowtail jacket over a white shirt and black trousers, a red sash draped across one shoulder, a dahlia pinned to their lapel. A fuzzy black pillbox hat sat atop their hair, a small black veil pulled over their eyes, their lips painted bright red.

Hastur and Ligur stood on either side of the gazebo entrance while the happy couple joined Anathema inside.

Anathema welcomed the guests and recounted the couple’s meeting (they literally ran into each other as Dagon was leaving a coffee shop that Beez was entering) and their decision to get married (“They’ve been living together for years, so this is just a formality, really. They’ve been married in spirit since their third week together.” This earned a laugh.)

Crowley was invited up to do the reading and he stepped up, delivering it from memory with clear, perfect diction. Aziraphale was entranced by the lyrical dips and accents of the words.

_love is a place  
_ _& through this place of  
_ _love move  
_ _(with brightness of peace)  
_ _all places_

  
E. E. Cummings. Aziraphale smiled and let his lips move, silently forming the words along with Crowley, heart fluttering.

_  
yes is a world  
_ _& in this world of  
_ _yes live  
_ _(skillfully curled)  
_ _all worlds_

After the reading came the vows, personal and emotional, then the kiss.

And then it was time for the reception. 

The wedding party and guests moved to the dining area and adjoining patio. 

It also twinkled with lights, strands wrapped with red tulle. The tables were clothed in black with white and silver table settings gleaming in the light of the candles. Arrangements of red dahlias, sprays of baby’s breath, and whimsical fiddlehead ferns were set into crystal vases at the center of each table. 

Newt smiled at them from behind the portable bar.

They would have a chance to talk to him later. Dinner first.

And what a dinner it was!

Tender parmesan chicken smothered in a delightful cream sauce, green beans sautéed with butter and garlic and sprinkled with bits of bacon, and the softest rolls he’d ever had, still warm from the oven. Crowley had selected the pasta dish, tortellini in a red sauce with zucchini and mushrooms, and a side salad topped with walnuts and a light coating of vinaigrette.

They talked and laughed with Anathema as they ate and drank the house red. It was wonderful. Crowley leaned closer and closer to Aziraphale as the hour wore on, fingers brushing, knees bumping together under the table, smile bright and crooked. It set Aziraphale’s heart racing. He nearly forgot that he was allowed to touch, to have this, at least for a few more hours. He reached over and laid his hand over Crowley’s on the table, squeezing for just a moment, before returning to his food. Crowley’s smile grew impossibly brighter.

After dinner came the dancing.

Aziraphale was content to sit and watch the others have fun. Anathema and Adam danced together with gusto, Adam doing his best to lead despite his height disadvantage while Mr. and Mrs. Young danced nearby, laughing together as they spun around the dance floor. Dagon and Beez led the Electric Slide and, much to his delight, Crowley joined in beside Hastur and Ligur.

The music was loud and upbeat, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. He was too happy to be bothered by bebop tonight.

When the music slowed, Crowley ran over to him and took his hand, crooked smile brightening his whole face..

“Dance with me, angel.”

“Oh, no. Crowley, I don’t dance!” Aziraphale protested, even as he was dragged to the dance floor. 

“I don’t believe you.” Crowley smiled down at him as his arms wrapped around his waist.

Aziraphale’s arms wound around Crowley’s shoulders and they swayed together.

_When I fall in love it will be forever_ _  
_ _Or I’ll never fall in love_

Aziraphale’s heart didn’t race. It didn’t freeze. It beat in time with the music. In time with Crowley’s heart.

He settled his head against Crowley’s shoulders and the arms around him pulled him closer, held him tighter.

_In a restless world like this is_ _  
_ _Love has ended before it’s begun_ _  
  
_

“Crowley,” Aziraphale lifted his head to gaze into honey gold eyes. 

“Yes, angel?”

“I’m glad you invited me here. It was a bit strange at first, but I have had a wonderful time with you. And I do hope that we can still see each other. Once we’re home.” His words stumbled, awkward and ungraceful.

Crowley’s face softened impossibly more. “I was going to say the same thing.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. Like spending time with you.”

_And too many moonlight kisses_ _  
_ _Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun_

They swayed together, holding each other close. Aziraphale was sure Crowley felt the same. He must. Holding him this way. Smiling at him like that. Wanting to spend time with Aziraphale, even after this weekend was over. It had to mean something.

“Crowley…”

“Mind if I cut in?” an unfamiliar voice came from behind Aziraphale’s shoulder. Crowley tensed beneath Aziraphale’s fingers.

“Hey. Surprised to see you here.”

“That was the plan. Surprise!” They smiled and Aziraphale’s stomach dropped. They were very attractive. Tall and thin, like Crowley, but their features were more severe, their movements stiffer than Crowley’s serpentine saunter.

“Give us a minute,” Crowley released Aziraphale.

He stepped away, watching as Crowley’s arms found their way around someone else. 

_When I give my heart it will be completely_ _  
_ _Or I’ll never give my heart_

He moved off the dance floor without telling his feet to move, and found himself at the bar with a very sympathetic Newt.

“You looked like you were having a nice time,” Newt slid a glass of wine over.

“I was.” He gulped down far too much wine for one go. “Do you know who that is?”

“Checked in this afternoon, name of...er...” Newt struggled to remember, “Michael, Michaels, something like that. I’m guessing they know each other?”

“I’m guessing that’s the ex.” Aziraphale stated flatly. His stomach churned and he couldn’t breathe, despite the fresh air and cool ocean breeze.

“What’s the ex doing here? He’s with you!” Newt’s eyes were wide behind his glasses.

“No, he’s not. I’m afraid this has all been a ruse. A ruse that’s over, now that he’s back with his ex.” Aziraphale’s eyes watered as he watched them dance together. They looked so natural in each other’s arms, not at all the strange picture of Crowley’s lithe figure next to Aziraphale’s round plumpness.

“A r-ruse? Wait, what? But, but you’re in love!” Newt stammered.

They both stared at Crowley and the newcomer in his arms. They leaned forward and placed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. Lingering. 

Crowley didn’t push them away.

“I had hoped,” Aziraphale fought back the sobs that were gathering in his throat, “but clearly I was mistaken. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

  
_And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too_ _  
_ Is when I fall in love with you

Shame burned in his gut. Shame and anger and hurt and embarrassment.

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have let himself fall for Crowley so quickly? How could he have let himself put himself in a position to get hurt like this? His heart had not experienced a break like this in many years, and none had felt this painful.

“Something wrong, dearie?” Tracy nearly ran into him as he entered the lobby.

“Not at all. Everything’s tickety boo. But I do have to get back to London tonight. Can you call a cab to take me to the nearest train or bus station?” Aziraphale forced a smile.

“Of course. Though, I’m sure it could wait until morning?” Tracy eyed him and it felt like she knew too much.

“I’m afraid it’s quite urgent. Thank you for your concern though. Let the cab know that I’ll be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

He ran up the stairs and threw his clothes into his suitcase, not even bothering to turn on the light.


	8. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mind if I cut in?”  
> Crowley tensed. No. Nononononono. This couldn’t be happening. Not when everything was just about to go right (for once).

Crowley’s heart stopped when he saw Aziraphale. _That suit!_ It, well, suited him. Perfectly hugged every gentle curve of him. Crowley longed to reach out, to wrap his arms around the angel, hold him close, feel the fabric beneath his fingers.

_Oh, he was so beautiful._

The smile that broke out over his face when their eyes met, the way he looked at him during the reading, with fondness and admiration and something Crowley was afraid to put a name to.

He didn’t want to assume.

The reading went well, though he nearly lost the words. Aziraphale looked so happy, so fond, his lips silently reciting along with Crowley.

_Love is a place_. Love is wherever Aziraphale was.

_Yes is a world._ Yes is the world Crowley wanted to give to Aziraphale. A world of yes, a world of gifts and lunches and nights wrapped in each others arms, a world of soft kisses and softer words.

And then they danced. He took his angel’s hand and pulled him into his arms and they swayed to the music. He breathed in the warm vanilla scent of him, ran his fingers along the soft fabric of his suit, thrilled at the soft give of his waist under his hands.

This is what he had always dreamed of.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was timid and Crowley’s heart twisted.

“Yes, angel?” He tried to put every bit of reassurance possible into those two little words.

“I’m glad you invited me here.” His eyes flitted from Crowley’s face to anywhere but. “It was a bit strange at first, but I have had a wonderful time with you. And I do hope that we can still see each other. Once we’re home.”

Crowley’s heart swelled. This was everything he hadn’t truly let himself hope for, hadn’t allowed himself to envision. “I was going to say the same thing.”

“You were?” Aziraphale’s eyes met Crowley’s, clear and honest and shimmering with hope and that thing Crowley was still too afraid to put a name to.

“Yeah. Like spending time with you.”

It was true.

It was also the biggest lie he’d ever told.

He loved spending time with him. 

He loved him.

He should be honest. Anathema had pulled him aside earlier that day whispering something about the stars and honesty and Aziraphale, and Crowley hadn’t fully understood what she was on about at the time, but it was clear now.

He needed to be honest with Aziraphale. Needed to trust himself and trust Aziraphale. Trust his heart to be true and vulnerable. He took a deep breath.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale shifted and Crowley could tell he was about to be brave. Those blue eyes bright, his shoulders squared, his mouth pulled into the smallest smile.

_This was it._

Crowley’s heart pounded and he worried that it would make him shake apart under its force.

The words on Crowley’s tongue died when he heard their voice.

“Mind if I cut in?”

He tensed. 

No. _Nononononono_. This couldn’t be happening. Not when everything was just about to go right (for once).

“Hey. Surprised to see you here.” His words were cold even as he felt the heat rising in his gut.

This isn’t real. It can’t be.

“That was the plan. Surprise!” They smiled politely and Crowley didn’t miss the way their eyebrow twitched as they looked over Aziraphale.

He wished he could sweep Aziraphale off his feet and run. Away from _them_.

Instead, he asked Aziraphale to give them a minute. 

Even a minute would be too long. Too long to let Aziraphale wonder and weave stories in his mind. Make this quick and explain everything. It was going to be okay.

Aziraphale stepped out of his arms and Crowley nearly whined, nearly reached out for him again. Instead the space was filled with someone much less soft and warm and kind. Someone much less angelic.

“Why are you here, Michael?” Crowley hissed as he watched Aziraphale cross to the bar.

“Now, I know you’re upset with me, but you could at least pretend to be polite?” Michael’s lips pursed.

“Sorry, no politeness left in me. You sent it all away,” he inclined his head to where Aziraphale stood, shoulders slumped, at the bar.

“Him? Really?” Michael followed Crowley’s gaze and smirked. “Well, if that’s what you wanted, it’s no wonder we didn’t work out.”

“Don’t. Just don’t. Don’t tear him down to make yourself feel better.” Crowley’s feet stopped moving, but he couldn’t control his arms in his fury. They were stuck to Michael’s waist, tingling with the wrongness of it all. “We didn’t work because you don’t think I’m good enough for you. And maybe you’re right. I don’t have a job, I don’t have money, I don’t have power like you do, but the biggest difference between us is that I don’t need all that. I’m getting by because I have people who support me and love me for who I am. And that was never going to be you. I was never going to be the man you wanted me to be.”

Michael laughed.

They laughed.

“You know, I think you’re right.”

“Then why are you here?” Crowley growled.

“I thought I could win you back. But clearly that’s not going to happen,” they shrugged.

“Do you really want me back? Or do you just like having someone around?” Crowley’s anger burned away and he was left, exhausted and bruised and honest.

“You’re right. I don’t think I really know how to care for someone.” They smiled softly, sadly. “And you deserve better than that. I thought that seeing you with someone else would upset me, but I don’t feel anything. I don’t think I’ve felt anything in a long time.”

“You should work on that. It’s terrifying, but it can also be the best thing to ever happen to you. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk worth taking.” Crowley’s gaze drifted over to the bar again.

“I think you’re right. Thank you, Crowley.” They leaned in and pressed their lips to Crowley’s cheek. “I hope he makes you happy.”

“More than you could know.” He let his lips curl into a smile.

“Then I think it’s time for me to make my exit.” They dropped their arms and stepped away. “Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Bye, Michael.”

He watched as Michael disappeared inside. Relief flooded through him. Their relationship had never been one of emotional connection, but of compatibility and logic. They had worked in the same building and saw each other often. They lived a few blocks apart, so visiting was easy. They both avoided going out with their coworkers after work and used each other as an excuse. It had been convenient and fun for a little while, but it was deep or strong or real.

Crowley knew more about Aziraphale in two days than he knew about Michael after being together for a year. 

Aziraphale!

He glanced over to the bar and his heart lurched.

There was no angel.

He ran over, weaving between the guests milling and dancing around the lawn.

“Where did he go?”

“A-Aziraphale?” Newt stuttered, clearly overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. Or maybe it was his desperate expression. “Inside. Saw you with your partner and-”

“Partner? Shit!” Crowley threw his head back and groaned. “Thanks.”

He took off and was in the lobby, about to throw himself up the stairs three at a time when he heard a voice.

“He’s gone, dearie.” 

“What?” Crowley whipped around to find a somber expression painted across Tracy’s face.

“Asked me to call him a cab. Looked awful.”

“Where is he?” Crowley demanded, begged.

“Headed to the train station.” A glimmer grew in her eye. “Notoriously slow driver, though. Thought he’d feel safer that way.”

Crowley perked up.

“If one drove fast enough and took the shortcut across the bridge, one might just be able to catch him.” She winked at him and stepped aside, clearing his path to the front door. 

Crowley tried to thank her, but his words caught in his throat. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and was off. 

He jammed the key into the Bentley and sped out of the lot, racing down the dark streets.

He almost missed the bridge, but managed to make it with a sharp jerk of the wheel, muttering apologies to the Bentley the whole way.

He was almost to the train station when he noticed a cab pulled over on the side of the road. He slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car.

“Aziraphale,” he called, voice breaking. 

_Please let it be him._

“What are _you_ doing here?” The angel accused, face contorted in pain and rage as he stomped over.

“I couldn’t let you leave. Not without knowing.” Crowley was breathless. Had he been breathing on the drive? Not enough, apparently.

“Knowing what? That I was a joke to you? Believe me, I have been made very aware of that.” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest, a shield. 

“No, Aziraphale.You were never a joke. I-” he stepped closer, but Aziraphale moved away. “I didn’t know MIchael was coming. I’m not sure why they did, really. But it’s over now. Again. Whatever. It’s done.”

“It didn’t look like it was over.” Aziraphale’s soft heart was beginning to peek through the anger.

“It is, I swear. It was over before it started, really. It was never like what you and I-” 

“What you and I _what_ , Crowley?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with fury, but his shoulders began to shudder with sobs. “What we pretended to have? Deceiving your family, deceiving ourselves, never once stopping to ask what it is we really wanted? What we were too afraid to wish for?”

Crowley took a tentative step closer, one arm extended, inviting Aziraphale in.

“What do you want then? What is it you wish for?”

“What?” Aziraphale’s face was blotchy and tear stained and Crowley had never wanted to kiss anyone more in his whole life.

“Tell me what it is you want. What you wish for.”

“You!” Aziraphale nearly screamed.

A heavy silence fell.

“I wish for you. I would wish for you on every candle of my birthday cake, on every coin thrown into the fountain, on every stray eyelash, and every falling star. Every minute of every day I wish and beg and plead for you to love me as much as I love you and I can’t do it anymore! It hurts too much. I’m done!”

“Good.”

“Good?” Aziraphale looked ready to run again, but Crowley couldn’t stop his smile.

“I’m done wishing, too. I think it’s time for us to stop wishing and start being happy.”

Crowley stepped forward, crushing Azirapahle in a hug that was filled with questions and answers and soft reassurances.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was muffled against his shoulder.

Crowley shifted back, gazing down at his angel’s face.

“This.”

He wrapped his hand gently, carefully, around Aziraphale’s neck and guided him in. Lips pressed to lips. Breath caught in their throats and there were warm arms around Crowley, pulling them closer.

They kissed.

_Oh, how they kissed._

Sweetly and desperately and perfectly.

“I love you, angel. I’ve loved you since we fell into that pond.” Crowley smiled against Aziraphale’s lips.

“Oh, my dearest heart, I love you, too.”

“Do you forgive me?” Crowley settled Aziraphale’s head against his shoulder, cradling him close.

“I’m the one who should ask for forgiveness. Assuming the worst, not trusting you, running off without an explanation, accusing you. I have acted dreadfully tonight.”

“S’understandable, though. Bit of a weird night.”

This earned a weak chuckle.

“Nothing to forgive, angel. Got us here, didn’t it?” Crowley stroked his fingers through downy curls.

“I had rather saw my big confession going differently. I was about to, you know. Confess. Tell you how I felt. Just before…”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley squeezed him tight, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I had hoped you were going to. One of us needed to be brave. You just beat me to it.”

Aziraphale moved back, cupping Crowley’s cheeks in his hands.

“You mean you were going to?”

“Of course. I needed you to know that you’re the best thing to ever happen to me _mfph_!”

Aziraphale’s arms were thrown around Crowley’s neck and they pulled together under a sky full of stars.

(The cabbie, who had finished changing the flat tire, quietly drove away and left them to it. They didn’t notice.)


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of this journey!
> 
> I cannot even begin to express my deep gratitude for my incredible team:  
> [apocalypsenah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsenah) and [Tarek_giverofcookies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarek_giverofcookies) \- incredible artists and fantastic friends/collaborators  
> [Snel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth) \- beloved friend and beta extraordinaire 
> 
> And a HUGE thank you to you, dear friends and readers for sharing your time and kind words with me. Your support means so SO much and I adore you all! 
> 
> ❤️❤️❤️

_ One Year Later _

Aziraphale paced.

If he had had any sense, he would have tutted and scolded himself for he was surely wearing away at the wood floors. But he had no sense to spare.

His stomach was in knots, as were his hands as they wrung at his waist.

It had been one glorious year since that strange encounter in the park. Crowley helped Aziraphale around the shop, took him out to lunch or dinner and brunch on the weekends. Drove him to book sales and to the theatre and held doors and pulled out chairs and beamed when he was seen with his angel on his arm. They laughed together as they walked through the park, hand in hand. Aziraphale bought feed for Crowley to toss to the ducks and never said a word about all the plants that appeared in the windowsills and tables of the shop. He read to Crowley and ran his fingers through auburn hair until he heard the soft steady breaths of sleep. They cooked meals together and cleaned up together and spent evenings cuddled up on the couch together. It was a dream come true.

Crowley had gotten the job at the botanical gardens and was positively thriving. He returned at the end of each day tired and sun-kissed and glowing. He claimed that it was just because he had an angel to come home to, but Aziraphale knew better. He was so proud of Crowley. So very in love with this strange, sharp, stranger that had changed his life. Who reminded him every day what it meant to live and love and have adventures in the little moments. 

There was a knock at the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Y-yes?” He called.

“It’s me! Newton Pulsifer! Are you ready to go?” the voice answered from behind the still-closed door.

“I suppose so, yes.” 

He took a deep breath and crossed to the door.

They arrived at the park and Newt led him to a small tent to wait for his cue.

Aziraphale paced.

“It’s time.” This time it was Tracy, looking stunning. Her hair was blonde now, pulled back in a french twist, and her makeup was much more natural, making her eyes pop. She wore a deep blue dress that shimmered as she moved. 

She kissed Aziraphale and the cheek and squeezed his hand.

“Go get him.”

She held back the flap of the tent and Aziraphale stepped through it into the bright sunshine. 

Chairs were lined up in neat rows, filled with beloved friends and family. Hastur, Ligur, Dagon, and Beez smiled as he passed. The Youngs waved from their seats. Mrs. Abbott beamed from the front row, thrilled that her dear friend had finally found love.

But Aziraphale’s eyes saw only one person. The tall, slim, redhead that stood before him, silhouetted by the sky and sparkling water of the pond, wiping tears from his eyes.

The ceremony sped past in a blur. All Aziraphale remembered was Crowley, the way he looked at him as if he were his whole world, the way he held his hands securely between his own, the way he whispered  _ I love you _ the moment before their lips met.

It had been perfect.

The guests stood and tossed seed as the music played. Aziraphale had thought ahead and had chosen something the ducks could enjoy after they relocated to the reception hall.

What Aziraphale had not thought of was a certain playful pup, who broke away from his humans and began to run around, chasing the seed as it fell from the sky. Crowley grabbed at the leash as Dog sped past. 

Here they were, again, in the spot they had first met, Dog yipping and jumping.

Once again tangled up. This time forever.


End file.
